


The Bluebell Field, Where Hyacinths Grow

by f0rt1ss1m0



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, One Night Stands, Rivals, Secret Crush, Suggestive content in chapter 6, Underage Drinking, both characters are 18 but america is stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-06-09 22:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rt1ss1m0/pseuds/f0rt1ss1m0
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Bell Zarcero had her first kiss at a high school party. Somehow, even her expectations weren't low enough.-Inspired by Drawbauchery's human AU.





	1. The Beloved, Part I

**Author's Note:**

> this is what im working on instead of de facto. just take it for what its worth (which is 6 pennies, 2 lint balls, and a paperclip)

In short, this wasn’t how Bell Zarcero expected to have her first kiss. 

She...wasn’t actually sure how she expected to have it. She didn’t make a habit of thinking about it often; Bell was a girl with a big future and a big to-do list and, quite frankly, a big nose. It had been a long time ago when she had accepted the reality that boys didn’t like girls with noses like hers, a fixture reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West and the Evil Queen’s old crone disguise in Snow White. It hurt more in middle school but by now Bell didn’t mind so much, so long as she avoided mirrors and the idle daydream of what her first kiss would be like. 

But whatever ghostly hopes had lingered in the back of her mind, they weren’t  _ this. _

“This” was Mama calling her down to the kitchen at 5 PM on a Thursday, usually a sacred time that Bell would spend in her room doing homework. Even Mama — master of the loud rock music, feared throughout Southern California — wouldn’t interrupt homework time. Except for, apparently, phone calls.

“ _ MIJA!  _ Phone call from your friend!”   


Bell put down her pencil and frowned. “Coming, Mom!” she yelled back, because Mama didn’t take well to waiting. There were, however, several problems with what Bell had heard. First, her friends didn’t typically call her, period. Second, her friends were all nerds and they all knew that Bell more or less qualified as one as well, so immediately after school she would be doing nothing more than homework. Conclusion: this was not a friend. As Bell crept down the stairs to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

The phone lay abandoned on the countertop, and Mama had returned to her pots and pans on the stove. “Isabel, for you,” she said, nodding her head to the phone.

“Who was it?”

Mama shrugged. “White girl. Very rude.”

“Unfortunately, that describes about half of the girls in my school,” Bell murmured, slipping behind Mama to reach the phone. She loved her mother, but both of them agreed that Mama was altogether much too wide for a kitchen so narrow. As Mama hobbled around with hot pans and bowls, Bell sat on the countertop next to the landline and carefully picked up the phone. “Hello?”

At first she heard nothing from the other end. Then voices far off, as if a conversation was happening elsewhere in the room, and finally a few bumps as someone picked up the phone on the other end.

_ “Hey, this is Isabel, right?” _ _  
_

Inadvertently, Bell’s shoulders tensed up. She knew that voice. “Yana,” she said coolly, but through gritted teeth. Yana Zaranti — the girl who was everything that Bell wasn't. And Bell couldn’t stand it.

_ “Yeah,”  _ was all that Yana said at first. Then she sighed.  _ “Look. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t exactly have another option. I need to ask you a favor.” _ _  
_

Bell raised an eyebrow, even though Yana couldn’t see it. “A favor.”

_ “I’m glad you heard me correctly. Yes, a favor. Will you do it?” _

“What’s the favor?”

_ “My parents are out of town this weekend, so I planned on having a little party between me and my friends. Here’s the catch — I asked Natalie Kentworth if she could come, but she’s grounded until she turns in a super late research paper for history. I would help her finish except that I’m far too busy. Instead I asked her if there’s anyone who could help her and she mentioned that you’re in her study hall, so my request to you is that — ” _

“You want me to write her paper for her,” Bell cut in, folding her arms. “No. That’s not going to happen.”

_ “I never said that,”  _ Yana replied.  _ “First of all, Natalie is so dumb that she can’t count her toes. If you wrote her paper, Mr. Manson would know, and that would be stupid for both of you, wouldn’t it?” _

Bell chose not to respond. Yana took this as permission to plow on.

_ “What I’m asking is that you help her finish it, then polish it up well enough for it to get, I dunno, a D minus. That’s all I ask. I’m sure it will take less than a few minutes; likely not even your whole study hall.” _

“I want to be paid.”

_ “Paid?" _

“I’m glad you heard me correctly,” said Bell pointedly. “I want to be paid in cash, fifty dollars minimum. Extra fines applicable depending on how much trouble she gives me.”   


She could  _ feel  _ Yana’s mood withering through the phone line.  _ “How about twenty dollars?”  _ she said, clearly trying to sound confident. But what Yana didn’t know was that Bell had lived with her aunt and uncle in Cozumel for three summers, working for them in a shop that sold “authentic Mexican souvenirs” to tourists. Bell knew how to haggle. 

“Forty-five,” she said. 

_ “C’mon, Izzy! Really? Thirty?” _

“Forty. That’s my final offer because I would prefer not being called Izzy. You’re rich, you can afford forty dollars.”

There was a hesitation, which Bell hadn’t expected. Then Yana groaned.  _ “No. I’m really not. I’ve already budgeted for this party. Sixty for the booze, forty or so for the food plus whatever food that other people bring, fifty for a new outfit, and fifty for some new CDs. I tried to ask my parents for extra money, but they’re already suspicious of why I plan to spend two hundred dollars in a week, and said they wouldn’t give any more until my Sunday allowance. You know how it is.” _

As Yana rambled on, Bell looked around her condo’s tiny kitchen. Next to her on the counter was the pile of bills that Bell always did for Mama, who was often confused by the complex legal jargon. Bell looked down at her jeans, threadbare from overuse and rolled up under her knees to hide the fact that they were too small. When she lifted her head, the refrigerator was right in front of her — with a smiling picture of Dad, dressed all up in his military camouflage, his once-proud dreadlocks shorn down to a bald brown head. The postcard attached was too far for Bell’s old glasses to read but she knew what it said.  _ Bell: don’t give up! It’s going to be hard without me and I wish I could send home more money but you can get through it. I’ve already asked to come home for your high school graduation. Love you to bits. _

Finally Bell closed her eyes and told Yana, “No, unfortunately, I don’t know what having a two hundred dollar allowance is like.”

Yana obviously registered the venom in Bell’s tone and seemed to try changing tactics.  _ “Okay. Whatever. Just...I don’t have the money now. But I will.”  _

She sighed again, and then a shuffling that sounded like her putting her hand over the receiver, then muffled talking in the background. Then Yana returned. 

_ “Listen. If you help Nat I’ll pay you fifty dollars like you asked, and…you can come to the party. I can even hook you up with a guy, Alice’s best friend’s brother totally likes nerdy Hispanic girls with glasses.” _

“I’m flattered."

_ “Just...please. C’mon. I really want Natalie to be at this party. I’ll even pay you the full fifty when I get my allowance again.” _

“I’ll think about it,” said Bell stiffly.

_ “You just have to help Natalie tomorrow at study hall. And if you come to the party you have to swear not to tell anyone what happens there, unless they were THERE, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. But that’s all.” _

“I said I’ll think about it,” Bell repeated. “Goodbye, Yana.” She hung up before Yana could say another word. 

Mama looked up from stirring the rice and beans. “Your friend?” she asked. 

“Not really,” Bell replied. 

“Was it drugs?”

“What? Mom, really?”

A smile spread across Mama’s face. “Sounded like paying for drugs.”

“Mom. I don’t do drugs. I’m scared of needles and I have asthma."

The mischievous grin grew wider. “Prostitution?”

“No! Ew, gross! What the heck, Mom.”

“Prostitution, then. Extra fines for how much trouble she causes you.”

“NO! C’mon, Mom!” Bell rolled her eyes as her mother laughed like a ten-year-old boy. “I was contracted by a girl to help another classmate write an essay.”

“For forty dollars? You should start a tutor business.”   


“Fifty. She’s letting me attend her party as some sort of really weird collateral, but I really doubt I’m going to go.”

Thinking the conversation was ending, Bell hopped off the countertop and tried to slip past Mama to go back upstairs, but suddenly Mama turned around. She couldn’t move fast because of a bum knee and she was a good hand shorter than Bell’s five feet and eleven inches, but she was also much stockier, and in general it really was hard to ignore a grey-haired Mexican lady with seven ear piercings and two sleeves of tattoos from her punk rock phase in the 70’s. She raised an eyebrow at Bell. 

“Isabel. Did you hear yourself? You’ve been invited to a party.”

Bell glanced uncomfortably to the side and folded her arms. “So?”

“You’ve never been invited to a party!” Mama exclaimed, her eyes bright. “I have been telling you, get out of your room, go talk to people, this could be your last chance!”   


“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not like a good party, Yana literally said she’s buying booze for it!”

“But it’s fun. And you haven’t smiled in six years.”

“You were literally just on my ass about me doing drugs and having sex and that’s exactly the kind of party that is.”   


Mama made a face and turned back to the stove. “You say that like I’ve never been to a party like that. No party is ever as wild as you think it’ll be. You get uncomfortable, you call me and I will pick you up right away.”

“Unbelievable.” Bell threw her hands in the air. “My own mother is trying to convince me to rebel.”

“It’s good to make mistakes sometimes.”

Bell blinked. “W...what?”

Sighing, her mother closed the lid on the food, set down her ladle, and turned to Bell, putting her hands on Bell’s shoulders. “ _Mija,”_ she said, her dark eyes soft, “you know I am very proud of you. You are eighteen and a beautiful young woman. In a few months, you are about to graduate as the — the vel — vali…”

“Valedictorian.”

“You are about to graduate as the valedictorian of your whole school. And that is wonderful. But I look at you, and I see a girl who is not happy. You see all of your classmates going off and doing fun things, and you want to do them too, but you keep telling yourself that success and following the rules are the only things that mean anything in this world. That’s your father in you, that’s how I know.”

Indignant, Bell opened her mouth to protest, but the words shriveled up. Mama wasn’t wrong. Bell felt so empty, even though she was the most successful student in the school, the student with a full ride scholarship to Pomona College, the student graduating with every academic honor imaginable. She was lonely. She would walk out of her teenage years with no fond memories. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“Well,” she finally mustered up the resolve to say, “nobody’s ever really happy. But I’d rather be unhappy while not being in trouble than be unhappy while in trouble.”

Her mother just looked at her. Bell wasn’t sure what she read on Mama’s face; it was cryptic, very neutral, but with an unnamable tint to it. So Bell stared right back at her, unblinking. 

Then Mama shrugged, held out her hand, and said, “Give me your library card.”

Bell’s eyes widened. “ _ What?!” _

“You are not allowed to go to the library until you make a mistake for me,” said Mama sternly. “I don’t care what mistake it is. Could be doing something stupid at the party. Or going out after curfew. Or breaking into my room and stealing the library card. But I want you to do something bad, so that you know that it’s okay to make mistakes.”

“Y — you mean that it’s okay to break rules? Mom, what kind of lesson is that, you’re supposed to be teaching me how to be a better person — ”

“Which you cannot be, if you are always depressed and guilty. Perfection is not happiness. Striving for perfection brings only guilt to someone’s life, and guilt is not something you need in excess. Give me your library card, go to your room, and start thinking about which rule you want to break.”

There were no words to describe the shock that Bell felt in that moment. She hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve this — no, she’d done too much right. And she was getting punished for it. Numb, Bell reached for her wallet and pulled out her library card, which Mama accepted and pocketed with a face of devious glee. 

“I was hoping you would refuse to give it to me and make that your mistake,” she laughed, “but it’s mine now. Have fun with no new books. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Bell stared at her, speechless, for another moment before turning on her heel and storming up the stairs. Right before she slammed her bedroom door, she heard her mother laughing in the kitchen — so she slammed the door harder. Then she flopped facefirst onto her bed. 

Mama was not giving her any choice. Bell was going to that party, whether she liked it or not. And she had already made up her mind that she would not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introvert level 5000: you're so notoriously asocial that your own mother tells you to go do something stupid


	2. The Beloved, Part II

The next night, Bell went downstairs, sullenly asked her mother, “Can you help me sneak out of the house to go to a party?” and sat through a ten-minute car ride of being laughed at. 

“I can’t believe my own daughter,” Mama gasped as they drove across town, the radio blaring an Iron Maiden album. “Going to a bad kid party instead of studying on a Friday night! Probably going to drink and lose her virginity and vandalize property! How awful of me to watch her go!”

“If any of that happens then I hold you liable,” Bell grumbled. 

Her mother just rolled her eyes. “This address is in Bel Air. The party can only be to a certain level of bad or else the neighbors would make a stink.”

“Greeeaaaat. Real reassuring.” 

For the thousandth time, Bell fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt. She had been told by Natalie, after helping her with the essay, that the dress code was just casual whatever, but she still had spent too much time picking out her clothes. Her comfiest denim shirt, her lucky birthstone pendant, and her only pair of jeans that hadn't been frayed at the hems from overuse. Still, she already knew she’d stick out like a sore thumb. She didn’t wear cakes of glitter eyeshadow or handfuls of rhinestone butterfly clips; she didn’t have money for designer clothes or a starlet haircut straight out of Cosmo. She’d be just Bell, the poor mixed-race kid with a nerdy ponytail, coke-bottle glasses, and clothes from garage sales, just like she was at school. Except now she wouldn’t have a book to disappear behind. 

Mama turned a corner and Yana’s neighborhood appeared, like a glimmering jewel of the suburbs. Even from the street, Bell could see evidence of the party straight ahead. A few dozen cars clustered around a brightly-lit house two blocks down. “Do you want me to drive you all the way?” asked Mama, which might have seemed like an odd question except that they both knew Mama’s station wagon was as old as Bell herself. Not exactly a fashionable ride.

“No thanks, Mom. I can walk from here.” 

She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but then a hand rested on her shoulder. “ _ Mija _ ,” said Mama softly. “You understand why you are doing this.”

Bell’s brow furrowed. “‘Cause you’re making me,” she replied, but could only manage half the sarcasm that she wanted. Mama’s gaze was soft but steady, and Bell couldn’t tear her own eyes away. 

“Because I want you to learn something,” her mother said. “I want you to learn that no matter what happens tonight, you can call me. I’ll be at home by the phone. And as soon as you call, I will get in the car to take you home. I don’t care if you’re knocked up, if you’re drunk, or if you’ve set the neighborhood on fire — I would prefer that you don’t do those, but if you make a mistake, I will love you no less. I am here.”

Mama’s voice was softer than Bell could ever remember it being; it cracked from years of cigarettes and the suspension just above a whisper. She squeezed Bell’s hand. 

“Can I call if I just don’t want to be there anymore?” asked Bell.

“Of course. But wait at least ten minutes; I need time to get home before I can get your call.”

“Okay,” Bell muttered. 

“Okay.” Another squeeze of her hand, then Mama let go and patted her on the shoulder. “Now go have fun!”

“I really won’t,” replied Bell as she got out of the car. 

“At least try! Just have fun and remember what I taught you! Watch your open drinks, find a girl you can trust, condoms are cheap but babies aren’t — ”

“Maaaaaa!”

Her mother cackled. “Alright, alright! Start walking and you will have your library card in no time. I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Bell automatically. But she didn’t move from her spot on the side of the road until Mama started the car, made a U-turn, and disappeared down the road. Then Bell sighed and turned towards the party. 

She took her time walking, comforted by the fact that she didn’t constantly have to glance over her shoulder to make sure no shady city figure was following her. At the end of the block — Bell could see it clearer now, and it was one of the larger and more glamorous homes — was Yana’s house, home to Yana and two of the best lawyers in all of Los Angeles. 

Unwittingly, another sigh escaped Bell’s mouth as she drew closer. She knew jealousy was corrosive, but she couldn’t help but think of the future and grind her teeth. In government last year, where she and Bell had established their rivalry, Yana had used every opportunity to remind the class that she would become an even better lawyer than her parents. And granted, in mock trial, she was very good. 

But Bell knew one thing better than Yana did, and it was that ambition and skill weren’t everything. Yana’s parents would likely fund her entire postsecondary education, allowing her to attend the best law school she could get accepted to. After she graduated, she would have an immediate job at the family firm. But Bell wouldn’t have that. As hard as she worked, as driven as she may be, more things held her back where Yana was free to fly — Bell would graduate with tons of debt, and she would not be guaranteed a job anywhere. If she fell on hard times, she could not return to a house in a safe, rich neighborhood. 

_ Which is why it’s so important that I don’t make mistakes, so I can better succeed!  _ her brain told her for the thousandth time.  _ And why I shouldn’t be going to this party, why I shouldn’t even bother making friends because friends just mean trouble, and why I should just ignore the fact that almost four years of high school have gone by and I’ve never…had any fun. During any of it.  _

She stopped. Yana’s white house was right in front of her, with music blaring from inside and the silhouettes of party guests in the yellow windows.

Meanwhile it was cold out here, and when Bell looked over the tops of the multimillion-dollar houses she saw that the last violet wisps of twilight had escaped behind the horizon, coloring the air with velvet blue. A chilly breeze swept through and Bell wrapped her arms around herself. 

Yet another sigh escaped her lips. Guess she really had no choice. 

The steps to the front door seemed mountainous, like stairs for giants, even though they were really quite shallow and wide. But Bell had never stood on marble except when she shadowed in the L.A. courthouse or went to the bank, and on those occasions she normally wore the carefully-polished dress shoes that made her feel a little more confident. Just being out here alone, walking to the door in dirty sneakers, felt more like she on her way to beg for alms than to join the party as a guest.

Finally she summoned up the courage to knock. 

At first, it seemed like nobody had heard. So Bell knocked a little harder. The door cracked open, held by a bored-looking Asian girl with an impossibly big perm. Behind her, a few dozen teenagers milled around with drinks and dates.

“What?” asked the doorkeeper.

Bell swallowed. “Is this...Yana Zaranti’s house?”

The doorkeeper smacked her gum and blew a pink bubble. “Yeah.”

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t care.”

She cracked the door a little wider.  _ Warm welcome,  _ Bell thought to herself as she slipped through the narrow space, then jumped when the heavy door slammed behind her. She tried to turn around to talk to the girl with the perm, but only glimpsed of her disappearing into a swarm of other girls with perms. Great. 

Bell swallowed again, pretending not to notice the drop of sweat rolling down her forehead.

The house — if it could be called that; it really was more like a mansion — was full of kids. This wasn’t just a “few friends”, like Yana had promised. The marble staircases were littered with teens, some standing and chatting, others racing up and down the stairs. All of them were dressed to the tips of fashion, many of them were people she didn’t recognize, and none of them paid any attention to her.

For stars knew how long, Bell ghosted through the halls of Yana’s palace, staring at everything. It was really a gorgeous house. The living room had the biggest TV that Bell had ever seen; the spacious kitchen would have made her mother weep in jealousy. She found a bathroom that was bigger than her own bedroom and just hid in it for a while, sitting cross-legged on a white plush bathroom mat and wondering if anyone had ever touched it before. 

Eventually, she wandered out into the backyard, where the music was strongest and, despite the mild January chill, kids were splashing around in a huge swimming pool. And then, there she was. Yana Zaranti stood beside the pool, dressed in a designer yellow blouse and spotless white capris, her blond pixie-cut hair glowing gold in the poolside lights. She was truly, strikingly pretty. High cheekbones, long lashes, a prominent nose much like Bell’s own except that somehow Yana made it work (it was probably her cherry-red lips). Unfortunately, though she was chatting with friends, she seemed to catch Bell out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh, Izzy!” Yana yelled, waving her hand.

A good half of the people around the pool turned to look at Bell and she instantly shrank smaller. But Yana was quick to bustle over to her before she could escape. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” she smirked. “Welcome to my corner of the world.”

“What a dump,” said Bell flatly. 

Yana let out a decidedly pretentious laugh. “Oh, you’re so funny, Izz. I presume you’re only here to collect your payment?”

Several of Yana’s friends, male and female alike, but all clearly preps, drifted over and now eyed Bell suspiciously. Bell tried to ignore them. 

“Yes,” said Bell, “and then I plan to leave.”

“That’s lame,” one of the preps scoffed.

“Yana, is this the bitch you were gonna give to Matt?” asked another. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Yana, holding her hands out as if appeasing a mob of wild animals. They were still looking at Bell as if she was dinner. “I’ll do that now. Go bother Alyssa or something.”

The command was obvious in Yana’s tone — she was the alpha of these particular preps, and they slunk away murmuring to each other. Meanwhile, Yana came much too close to Bell and slung her arm over her shoulder. 

“So here’s the thing,” Yana drawled. Bell glanced down — Yana was wearing worryingly tall platform shoes, which explained how she could match Bell’s height. Her breath smelled like alcohol, but when Bell met Yana’s eyes, they glinted with a pure, sober genius. Of course. Yana was too smart to let herself get drunk. 

“You know how I offered hooking you up with a guy who likes nerdy girls? Yeah, well, I made the offer to him as well, and he’s fine with it. His girlfriend hasn’t been sleeping with him lately, so if you’d  _ like  _ to screw him tonight I’m sure he would be all the happier for that. I let him know that you might, just in case.”

“Yana, I’d really rather not,” Bell cut in. Yana had started walking inside and pulling Bell with her, so Bell slowed her pace and dragged Yana’s long strides back. Yana just looked at her, bewildered. 

“Rather not what? Rather not sleep with him?”

“I’d rather not meet him,” said Bell more forcefully. “I don’t want to meet anyone. I came here to get paid and that’s what I plan to do. You  _ do  _ have money for me, right?”

Yana’s gaze darted. Sheesh. For an aspiring prosecutor, she was shit at bluffing. “Well...not really,” she finally admitted. “Look, I’m sorry. I kind of lied. I had half of the money, and I planned to give it to you, but I miscalculated how many people planned to bring food, so I had Joey go out and buy more with your money. I really am sorry.”

“I somehow find it hard to believe that.”

“Well, believe what you want.” Yana led Bell inside the house and through the kitchen, where she stopped at the minibar to grab a can of Pepsi from the little fridge. “You want something?”

_ Watch your open drinks _ , Mama’s voice came back to Bell. Cans were fine. “Sprite, if you have it,” said Bell, to which Yana smirked. 

“You know what goes good with that? Just a little vodka. We got plenty.” 

Bell’s jaw tightened. “No, thank you.”

Yana shrugged and tossed her a can of Sprite, which she barely caught. “I’m still taking you to introduce him,” she said, then gestured for Bell to follow her. Reluctantly, Bell did. “He’s a nice guy, I swear. You know...you need to loosen up sometimes. And he’s a  _ big  _ guy, too.”

“Excuse me!” said Bell indignantly, but Yana promptly ignored her.

She led Bell through the kitchen to the living room, where a small crowd of teenage boys had flocked around the TV and turned on a football game. “Hey! I’m looking for Matt!” Yana yelled at the group. Some of them glared at her, but one beach blond popped up from crowd and waded over to them. Bell guessed that he was a little cute, if not a little familiar, but nothing remarkable. Yana pulled them aside and gave winning smiles to both of them.

“Heeeey...so, Izzy, this is Matt; Matt, this is Izzy…”

“Bell,” Bell corrected her. She huffed.

“Alright, fine. Matt, this is Bell. She’s the cute nerd I was talking about. She doesn’t have any friends here, so I expect you to treat her well, alright?”

Bell looked at Matt. Matt looked at Bell. “Oh, hey,” he said. “You look familiar, did I have a class with you, or…”

“Geometry,” Bell said, just then placing his face. “Freshman year, you sat in front of me.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The awkwardness was tangible enough that Yana probably could have cut it with one of her perfectly-manicured nails. She was tapping these same nails against the side of her cup, clearly impatient. “Soooo...I’ll just leave you two to figure each other out,” she said airily, then patted both of their shoulders. “Good luck!”

And then she disappeared into the crowd. Much more awkward now, Bell looked at Matt. And Matt looked at Bell. Again. 

“So, uh…” Matt coughed. “How are classes going for you?”

“Good,” replied Bell, shifting her weight. “What about you?”

“Oh. Uh. Good.”

He nodded. She nodded too. “Good.”

“Cool.”

They both looked elsewhere. If Yana wanted to make things awkward, Bell mused to herself, then she’d done a damn good job. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bell ur sexual tension is showing


	3. The Beloved, Part III

The conversation didn’t get much better from there. Matt was an okay guy, Bell learned; he was just…not interesting. He liked basketball and surfing and most other generic things that white boys in L.A. liked. They had one thing in common, and that was they were both anxiously awaiting Episode I of  _ Star Wars _ , but they really didn’t have much to talk about there either because the last time Bell had seen the movies was when she was eight. 

The most interesting thing that passed between them was the answer to why Yana had set them up in the first place — Bell asked about Matt’s girlfriend, Carol, and Matt said that Carol was just not happy in their relationship. A little more probing later and Bell learned three things: that Yana and Carol were very close friends, that Carol had been dropping hints of breaking up with him for several months now, and that there were rumors that Carol was seen with a boy who Matt had recently fought with on the basketball court. Bell emerged with the singular theory that Carol was cheating on Matt with his rival, but since Yana was a meddler, Yana had brought Bell here specifically to hook up with Matt and make Matt no longer interested in Carol, leaving Carol free to sleep with Matt’s rival. Certainly confusing, but it definitely seemed like something Yana would do, and though Matt was sad that his girlfriend was cheating on him, he was relieved to know one potential answer.

Even still. It wasn’t a noteworthy conversation and Bell found herself in no ways sexually attracted to Matt, a lack of feeling that Matt reciprocated. So they just hung around the TV with the other boys, watching the football with a veil of awkwardness between them.

Eventually Bell excused herself. During her time wandering the house, she took note of every phone she saw (there were quite a few). Her favorite was the one in the library, a dark, quiet place with lots of books. The first time she had been here, she was about 80% sure that a couple was trying to covertly screw behind a shelf, so she hadn’t stayed for long, but this time the place was empty. 

Of course a family of two lawyers and a gung-ho lawyer-to-be would have a personal law library, Bell thought to herself, reverently making her way to the desk. And of course very few partygoers had trespassed here; it practically reeked of judgment — there was a framed replica of the Constitution on the wall, photographs of Yana’s parents with several U.S. presidents and Supreme Court justices, newspaper clippings of all kinds. One bore the title  _ California Attorney Vittorino Zaranti Speaks Out Against Homosexual Marriage.  _ For some reason, that one made Bell uncomfortable. 

She shook her head and made her way to the desk, where a black phone sat between a large pile of mail, a very expensive-looking pen, and a crystal lamp. Then she hesitated. A book lay just beyond the phone, upside down from Bell’s perspective, but she could still read the title.  _ The Anti-Federalist Papers.  _ She raised an eyebrow. Of course she had read the Federalist Papers, but in the back of her mind she had assumed that the Anti-federalists had nothing good to say. She had never bothered to look for their papers to see their side on the issue.

Well, she supposed, she didn’t  _ have  _ to call Mama; she could always just sit here and read political books like she would do at the library, and that could count as her rebellious act…

But before she could touch the leather-bound cover, a roar rose up in the house beyond, startling her. 

Of course, this was a party, so there was always a general hubbub in the background. But this was rather nearby and quite sudden and much louder than the normal party-noise, so Bell grew curious. 

Tentatively, she crept to the library door and peered out. Most of the noise, now that her head was in the hallway, seemed to be coming from the living room, and at first she dismissed it as the football game. But then she noticed the other party guests drifting down the hall towards the source of the noise. 

“What’s going on?” she asked a passing group of girls. 

Most of them barely gave her a glance, but one of them shrugged at her. “Who knows?” she said. “That’s what I’m gonna go find out.”

Well. That was an answer, Bell supposed. As the girls continued on, Bell surreptitiously followed behind them to the final destination, the living room, where easily over fifty kids crowded in a mass. The kids seemed to be crowding around something in the center. Most of the unusual ruckus had died down into a noisy, general murmur, but there was a tension in the room, like a rubber band pulled to its limits. 

Then a girl’s voice hollered, “SABRINA! IT’S SABRINA!”

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of shrieks and wolf whistles, and everyone nearby who wasn’t part of the mob rushed quickly to join it. Everyone including Bell. She was tall, but there were some really high shoes and really big perms in this group, so craning her neck over the heads did virtually nothing. Fortunately, Bell was thin, so with some elbowing she managed to squeeze past the outer layers of the mob towards its heated inner sanctums.

The crowd was growing wilder now, everyone was talking at once, but Bell couldn’t string together a coherent sentence of what anyone was saying. “Excuse me, excuse me,” she just repeated, trying and failing to subtly slip through the cracks of the crowd. She was almost there and could see some things — the crowd was surrounding a low round coffee table, but it wasn’t being used as much of a table because there was a boy standing on it. A girl was climbing up too; Bell knew her from physics and that was obviously Sabrina. The crowd grew a little louder, but just as it felt like something was about to happen, a larger boy moved in front of Bell and blocked her view.

“Excuse me?” Bell squeaked, tapping his shoulder.

But it was the wrong move. He turned with a glare. “Don’t touch me, bitch.”

Indignant, Bell glared right back. “I beg your pardon?! I was just trying to see — ”

“If you wanna see so bad, get in there and join the game yourself,” the guy snapped, grabbing her shoulder roughly. Before she could fight back, he shoved her in front of him. With an undignified “oof!” Bell stumbled against the coffee table between two girls.

“Rude,” she almost said, but then there came a collective scream so loud that even her thought was cut off. Then her mouth went dry.

The two kids standing on the table were making out, a plastic soda bottle at their feet. 

Oh.

It clearly wasn’t just a middle school game of spin-the-bottle, either. Sabrina and the boy were practically eating each other’s faces; his hands were sliding dangerously low down her back and her hips ground against his as they embraced. Then there was something else — in Sabrina’s hand was a wad of cash, and throughout the crowd several people were chanting a countdown. When they reached one, Sabrina and the boy broke away as fast as they seemingly could, then came together again with Sabrina holding out the money. Once they’d split it evenly, they both climbed off the table and rejoined their laughing and jeering friends. 

“What the hell?” said Bell, disgusted. She didn’t know that she had said it out loud, however, and the girl to the right of her turned. 

“Spin the bottle for cash,” she said. “Bottle’s spun, then everyone bids on how long they should kiss, a dollar a second.”

“That’s — ” Bell was about to say “disgusting”, but then realized that this girl was probably also offering up her body for money in this sick game, so she held her tongue lest she offend and start a fight. “That’s…interesting.”

“I know, right? Easy money,” the girl grinned. “Hey, Yana’s next!”

Bell looked, as did everyone else — Yana herself was at the table, taking a calm sip of her drink as the friends around her cheered her on. Like always, she seemed utterly unfazed with a situation where Bell would personally panic, instead just giving a cool smile to her friends and cracking a few unheard jokes before leaning forward to pick up the bottle in the center of the table. Confident. Fearless. Having...fun, just like every other cool kid around her. The problem wasn’t that this game didn’t belong at the party; it was Bell who didn’t. She knew for sure now. 

“I gotta go,” Bell said quietly, but as Yana sent the bottle spinning nobody seemed to hear her. 

She turned around only to find a wall of crabby frat boy looming behind her, who glared at her once and sent a very clear message. He wasn’t going to move. Bell gulped and looked to the girl on her right.

“Excuse me, but could you move so I can lea — ”

The girl whirled around to look at Bell and suddenly the crowd lost its mind. But Bell had kind of gotten used to it at that point, so she didn’t question the yelling and suggestive “oooooOOOOH”s, just the look that her neighbor was giving her. Hard to tell what, exactly, the emotion of the look was.

“What?” Bell asked. “Did I say something?”

But the girl just laughed. “Holy shit, it’s you!” she yelled over the ruckus. “Tough luck!”

_ It’s you.  _

“What’s me?” asked Bell’s mouth, but deep down, like nausea, she knew. Her eyes blurry with incomprehension, she looked at the bottle on the table. 

Pointing towards her, and above it, Yana’s intent, solemn gaze. 

Bell’s stomach clenched up. Her neighbor slapped her playfully on the shoulder, telling her to get up there. The angry guy still loomed behind her, an impassable wall. And all around were kids hooting and wolf-whistling, yelling all versions of dyke and lesbian and whore and other words that made Bell want to break down into tears. But as Yana continued to stare at her, she found that she couldn’t. Deep down she was too proud to cry. 

Wordlessly, Yana stepped onto the table, crossed to Bell, and held out her hand. Every muscle in Bell’s body screamed for her to run, but the crowds drowned them out; her shaky hand found its rest in Yana’s palm as Yana helped her onto the table as well. Then the whole room was looking at them. 

_ “This should be hot.” _

_ “I’m paying five for this!” _

_ “Oh my god, I can’t believe Yana’s gonna do this…” _

_ “I wouldn’t kiss that dyke if you paid me a million bucks.” _

“TWO DOLLARS A SECOND!” Yana shouted, somehow overpowering the crowd. “You wanna see this? Double pay or it doesn’t happen!”

For a moment, there was a lull in the wave of noise, and Bell got a flickering hope — if nobody paid, did they still have to do it? — but then it was over. The yelling was back. Someone tossed in a wadded-up five-dollar bill; another person tossed in a ten. The people in front started passing up cash from the people behind them, and suddenly Bell found herself pulling sweaty wrinkled bills from the drunken hands of hungry-eyed high school kids. When Yana turned to her again, she took the cash and added it up. 

“Forty dollars,” said Yana, stacking the miscellaneous bills neatly together. “That’s the most a couple’s made all night. So it’s a twenty second kiss.”

She said it so frankly, and her posture was so calm, and she was so composed that the nausea in Bell’s stomach just grew worse. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Her first kiss was supposed to be romantic and sweet and soft and all within her own comfort range, it wasn’t supposed to be  _ prostituting _ herself out with a girl she could stand never seeing again and at a party where nobody here knew her name but all of them wanted to see her get ravished in public just for the fun of it.

Yana must have recognized the disgust on Bell’s face because she scowled. “Stop looking at me like that,” Yana hissed. “It’s not a big deal.”

Bell glared right back. “Not a big deal?! Yana, I’m not doing this. Get me down from here.”

She tried to turn away, but Yana’s hand snapped around her wrist. “Please, Bell. They’re all looking at me. If I don’t do it, the — um — the whole party will be ruined.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

The crowd was getting impatient. Some began to jeer. “Bet they’re not even going to do it!” one girl yelled. “Gimme my money back!”

An odd look of distress flickered across Yana’s face, and in her moment of weakness Bell tried to yank her hand away. But then Yana turned to her, meeting her eyes. 

“I’ll give you three-fourths of the share,” she whispered. “That’s thirty. Plus the fifty that I owe you. Eighty bucks for twenty seconds.”

Bell was opening her mouth to object again, but then hesitated. Eighty dollars was more than Mama made in a whole day at the laundromat, certainly more than Bell could ever hope to contribute to the household with Mama’s strict “study first, work later” policy. Eighty dollars could help fix the cracked windowpane in Bell’s bedroom...or get stronger locks on their doors to protect against burglars. Or it could be a small fraction of the knee replacement that Mama needed but couldn’t afford yet. Yes, okay, it was essentially selling her body, but Bell knew as soon as she heard the number that she needed it. 

Before Yana could say another word, Bell braced herself and kissed her hard. 

The first thing to come to Bell’s mind was the crowd, a roar so deafening and greedy and paralyzing that it almost didn’t register as something real. It just drowned. Just suffocated. And then, slowly, she began to recount the other reasons why she couldn’t breathe anymore — the sugar-sweet lip gloss that seeped into the cracks of Bell’s dry lips; the raw pressure of Yana’s face practically mashed against hers; the taste of vodka on Yana’s tongue that probed Bell’s mouth; the blindness as she unconsciously squeezed her eyes shut; the unexpected, uncomfortable feeling of a pair of hands sliding down to cup her ass. Bell gasped for air and jerked her head back, but Yana’s hands floated up to hold her in the kiss. 

She had read about something like this. Sensory deprivation tanks, where you couldn’t see or hear, so even the smallest movement against your body felt as if it bruised you to your very core. Here it was blindness from bracing for impact and deafness from the voyeurs and bruises all over, wherever Yana’s hands pleased, but always on the lips. She could not recall ever feeling so vulnerable and she  _ hated  _ the fact that her gut tightened up when Yana’s hands slipped almost lovingly into the small of her back. 

So she gave up. She let herself go limp as Yana kissed her, felt her, used her. 

The twenty seconds couldn’t be over fast enough. 

As soon as the crowd shouted “One”, Bell broke away, her hands both clamping over her mouth. She wasn’t sure why that was her body’s first response. Yana hadn’t hurt her besides when their teeth bumped, which felt weird, but just the fact that it had happened made her mouth feel awful. Yana’s taste lingered on her tongue. 

“Bell?” said Yana, but the whisper was lost in the howls all around her. The jeering and the laughing. The mocking, directed right at Bell. 

_ “Did you see how freaked out that virgin dyke was?” _

_ “Yeah, no wonder Yana hates her, she’s a stuck-up bitch…”  _

_ “Serves her right, she was probably putting herself in that circle so some hot guy would have to kiss her…”  _

_ “With that nose? Well, good for her for trying.” _

_ “Wonder how Yana didn’t get poked by it…” _

Bell tore out of the room.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back, didn’t care that she was sobbing and pushing past people as she stumbled away. Yana called her name but she didn’t listen. She just ran, her vision blurred by tears, out of the living room, through the halls, out the front door and down the steps. The night air hit her face like a slap.

But she didn’t stop, and she wouldn’t stop, until she was as far away from Yana Zaranti’s party as she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that concludes The Beloved. this fic will continue with The Lover, Part I whenever i decide to edit it. yes it will be here in the same fic but you know how i am with dividing my stories up into acts
> 
> i keep forgetting to write relevant author's notes so while we're at it, a huge thanks to my beta TuskedLioness! i love you and you are doing great!!!


	4. The Lover, Part I

It was just like that. Her love was gone. 

One moment, Yana had been holding her in ways that she had only dreamt of before — caressing her cheeks, adoring her lips, worshiping her body. It was escapism. For twenty seconds, there was nothing wrong with the world; Yana could close her eyes and hold Bell’s hand and pretend that the people around her were celebrating their love. She could pretend that Bell loved her as much as she loved Bell, and that they could be happy in a world that accepted them together. 

But then, the next moment, Bell pulled away from Yana and ran away in tears. 

The temperature of the room dropped thirty degrees. The crowd’s jeering died down into an uncomfortable murmuring as some of them watched Bell run away; some turned to Yana with confused looks, and the rest whispered among themselves. Natalie, the resident dumbass, made the mistake of being the first to speak up. 

“Wow, haha, didn’t think Yana was that bad at kissing!”

“Nat, shut up,” Yana snapped. Suddenly, her stomach didn’t feel so good, and she regretted having drunk so many mini cocktails. She realized that she was still clenching the forty dollars in her hand. She lifted her chin and faced the crowd, all of them waiting for her command. 

“Keep playing if you want,” she said, “but I hope you know that you’re all assholes.”

Yana stepped down off the table and strode through the mob, which parted uneasily before of her. Some people threw snide remarks at her back as she left, most accusing her of being no better, but she didn’t bother to remember them. She just chased after Bell, praying that Bell wasn’t the faster runner. 

Fortunately, as Yana skidded into the foyer, she just barely caught the front doors closing, which narrowed down Yana’s field of searching from “the house” to “not the house.” Great. Ignoring the fact that she was in very tall shoes, Yana burst through the front doors and ran down the steps to the sidewalk. 

The neighborhood was well-lit even at this time of the night, and it didn’t take Yana long to catch a glimpse of Bell. She was already three houses away and still running. So Yana steeled herself, kicked off her shoes onto the lawn, and took off as fast as she could.

“Bell! Wait!”

In hindsight, Yana would regret yelling that, as it only caused Bell to glance over her shoulder and then run faster. But if Bell had never looked over her shoulder, she would never have missed the child’s bike that had been left tipped-over on a driveway, its handlebars jutting over the sidewalk at the same height as Bell’s shins. 

_ WHAM! _

Bell slammed face-first onto the sidewalk, so hard that Yana flinched. Then she ran faster. “Bell!” she gasped, reaching out to her. “Are you okay — ”

“I don’t want — your _fake-ass_ _pity_ ,” Bell spat, her head jerking to glare at Yana. Her voice and gaze trembled with sobs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

She tried to push herself up, but faltered, looking at her legs and hands. Her knees were scraped and bloody, her pants in tatters. Her hands had escaped most topical damage except a few small cuts. Yana could already see the beginnings of bruises forming on her palms.

“I’m taking you back to my house,” said Yana. 

“Like  _ hell  _ you are,” Bell murmured, standing quickly. “I’m going home.”

“Well — okay — do you have a car — ”

“You really fucking think I have a car of my own?” She laughed bitterly as she turned to Yana, her face livid and streaked with tears. Her fists were clenched at her sides. “No, I’m going to find a payphone and I’m going to get a ride from my mom and go home and try to forget that tonight ever fucking happened!”

Bell was so mad that a couple droplets of spit flew from her mouth, and it was clear that she saw it because she grimaced in shame. Hiding her face in her hands, she turned and began limping away. But seeing Bell hurt was like a dagger twisted into Yana’s gut. 

“Bell, please — ”

Yana only made it a few steps before Bell whirled around on her. “Do I  _ need _ to remind you why I don’t ever want to see you again?” Bell hissed. She took a threatening step towards Yana, and Yana involuntarily took one back. “You dragged me into that  _ sick  _ game. You bribed me to  _ kiss _ you. You expect me to just  _ stand  _ there after my first and only kiss ever as people laughed about how terrible it was!”

Yana’s breath caught in her throat. “Your…first…”

Bell wouldn’t stop advancing, slowly and deliberately like a wolf. “And then you chase me so that you can mock me about wanting to go home! At first I thought it was just you trying to sucker up to your friends and seem cool around them — but — but — but even when they’re not around you’re still just so goddamn pretentious! It’s not even them! You’re just a huge, spoiled, stuck up bi — ”

Bell’s ankle caught on something, and in a split second Yana knew what it was. As Yana backed up, she had seen the bike that had tripped Bell earlier and stepped over it. But Bell was so angry, preoccupied with yelling, that she didn’t see it.

For the second time, Bell tripped and fell forward, gasping. 

It was a split second decision and really Yana hadn’t thought about it at all, but in hindsight she would wonder how she reacted so fast. Instead of jumping back, Yana caught Bell around her waist, stumbling back a little but managing to stay upright. Bell’s body pressed up against hers — oh. 

Bell seemed to realize this as soon as Yana did because she quickly scrambled to her feet. But instead of running, she finally let herself break down. Her breath hitched and she began to sob into her hands. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she wailed. “You’re never going to leave me alone, are you? Just take me back to your stupid rich house, put me up on display for all your stupid friends and tell them to laugh at me, the big ugly dyke! I don’t care anymore! I just — I just want to call my mom and go home!”

And Bell truly, deeply cried, right in the middle of the sidewalk, in front of her greatest rival. On the street, a car passed, driving away from Yana’s house. Then another one. Yana looked and saw that this wasn’t uncommon; several party guests were already walking out to their parked cars. Guess spin-the-bottle for cash wasn’t much fun anymore. But…as much as everyone leaving hurt to see, Bell crying hurt more. Like the difference between a slap in the face and a hot iron against her skin. 

Carefully, she put her hand on Bell’s shoulder. “Hey…half of the party’s leaving,” she said. “I can probably sneak you inside without anyone seeing.”

Bell wiped her nose with the back of her hand and let out a single, choked sob. “Can’t think of a goddamn reason why you wouldn’t want me to be humiliated,” she mumbled, the sarcasm weak but full of pain. Yana didn’t bother justifying herself in her own mind — Bell had a point.

“I’ll help you walk back,” she said quietly. 

Bell had a pronounced limp now and her right ankle seemed remarkably weak, so Yana let Bell hang onto her as she helped her walk. The sidewalk had not been kind to her. Yana, not one for blood, grimaced and tried not to think about that too much. For a moment she tried to focus on Bell’s arm around her shoulder, her side pressing up against Yana’s, and the shiny blue bauble holding Bell’s ponytail — things about Bell that she couldn’t help but adore — but that, too, caused her stomach to clench.

_ What have I done?  _ she thought. 

When she led Bell back inside the house, the noise of the party had dropped dramatically. In the foyer there was no one except a visibly drunk couple, sitting on the stairs and whispering to each other. They barely glanced up as Yana helped Bell limp upstairs.

She took Bell to her parents’ bathroom, long since vacant. It was a beautiful room, all white marble and silver fixtures, with a bathtub big enough for five people and a huge shower that doubled as a sauna. In one of the many cabinets was a variety of medicine and first-aid supplies. Yana grabbed a box of the biggest band-aids she could find, as well as an ace wrap, a towel, and antiseptic spray. She might have been shitty at talking to girls, but at least she knew first-aid. Eight years of softball made sure of that. 

“Sit,” said Yana tersely, gesturing to the floor. Still sullen and hanging her head, Bell did, taking care not to bend her knees too much. 

“Great. Just great,” Bell muttered. “These were my nicest pants. Whatever am I going to wear to the dozens of other upscale parties that I’m invited to?”

Yana, meanwhile, was preoccupied, sitting down in front of her and opening the packages. “Just...buy new ones.”

There was a silence and Yana suddenly realized that maybe she could have better thought through that response. 

“With  _ what _ money,” Bell grumbled. 

Yana cringed. Hastily, she reached into her back pocket and dug out forty dollars in cash — the money from the kiss.

“Well...this, for a start,” said Yana, then decided against her stingy heart and held the whole bundle out. “You can have it all. I don’t need it.”

Bell averted her gaze. “I told you I don’t want your pity.”

“Too fucking bad.” 

Yana set the cash down on the floor next to Bell and then turned her attention to the scrapes on her knees. They looked worse in the light, that was for sure. And Bell’s jeans would definitely need some intense spot cleaning if they were to ever be a shade of blue again. The obvious solution came to mind so fast that Yana almost said it without thinking — which would have been disastrous and probably quite alarming to Bell. After a few moments, Yana braced herself and decided to push forward anyway. 

“This is going to sound weird,” she began slowly, “but I need you to take your pants off.”

Bell’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?!”

Yana gritted her teeth. It was getting hard to look Bell in the eye. “If we want to save what’s left of your pants, I need to wash them before the blood soaks in. Not to mention that I need to clean off your scrapes. Once I’m done cleaning the wounds, I can lend you a pair of shorts or something.”

Bell opened her mouth to protest, but seemed to realize Yana had a point. Huffing indignantly, Bell stood up, kicked off her sneakers, wriggled out of her jeans and then sat down again. (Her panties were baby blue with white polka dots.)

Trying not to stare at Blue’s legs too much, and also trying to hide the fact that she was distracted by them, Yana pushed Bell’s jeans aside and turned her attention to the scrapes. First she wet the towel with warm water and dabbed it gently against the wounds, soaking up the excess blood and cleaning out the fragments of sidewalk. Once the wounds were as clean as she could get them, she applied the antiseptic spray and carefully lay the band-aids over each wound, two per scrape. 

She couldn’t help but, as she pulled her hands away, let her fingertips brush against Bell’s calf. Bell moved back an inch. 

Yana moved to Bell’s ankle. Obviously, there wasn’t as much discoloration or redness because Bell had such dark skin, but it was clearly swollen and Bell held it at an odd angle. Probably just a minor sprain if Bell could still kind of walk on it. Carefully she began to wrap Bell’s bare foot and ankle as best as she could, though she couldn’t find the clip to secure it, so she had to make do by sticking a hairpin in the bandage instead. Crude, but functional. 

“I’m going to get a new pair of jeans for you,” said Yana, her own voice sounding empty and distant in her ears. Bell didn’t even respond. 

Yana went to her room, grabbed the first shorts she saw, and for good measure dug in her closet for the pair of crutches she used in sophomore year for a fractured kneecap. Unfortunately she only found one, but that would do. When she returned to Bell in the bathroom, Bell was still sitting on the plush floor rug but had covered her legs with a towel. Yana tossed her the shorts. 

“Dress,” she said shortly before turning around. Might as well respect Bell’s privacy. 

After a few seconds, Bell muttered, “These are the sluttiest shorts I’ve ever seen.”

Yana glanced back. Bell stood wearing the aforementioned slutty shorts, balancing herself against the bathroom sink. They really weren’t THAT slutty. But in hindsight, Yana could have looked for a less revealing pair. The cuffed hems soared way above Bell’s knees, showing off nearly the full lengths of her bruised and bandaged legs.

“That’s because they belong to a slut,” said Yana calmly. Then she handed Bell the crutch and picked up her bloodied jeans. “I’m gonna wash these. Follow me if you don’t want to just sit here.”

Before she could close the door behind her, she heard Bell grumble something, then start limping after her with the telltale  _ step-CLANK, step-CLANK  _ of the crutch.

With Bell following wordlessly (but still very loudly) behind, Yana led her down one flight of stairs, through a hall where three kids were arguing about something unimportant, and down another flight of stairs. The laundry room was tucked into a far, quiet corner of the basement, and Yana had half expected to find a tipsy couple making out in it, but there was nothing but the calming white noise of the clothes dryer. 

While Yana lay the pants out and began dabbing at the stains with a wet washcloth from the laundry sink, Bell stood by the folding table. Yana didn’t even have to turn around to know what she was looking at. The single, tiny pile of laundry in the hamper and the few blouses folded on the table. 

“Your family doesn’t wear a lot of clothes,” Bell said suddenly.

Yana cast her a raised eyebrow. “Oddly specific and meaningless observation.”

Bell’s cheeks darkened and she turned away. “I was just thinking. Your parents aren’t home; I’ve been wondering all night how they could let you throw a party like this.”

“What a good question,” said Yana, partially sarcastic. How obvious could it possibly be that her parents were gone.

But Bell surprised her — she continued. “There was dust accumulated on the countertops in your parents’ bathroom,” she said. “And the pile of letters on the library desk, that had to be several weeks of mail. And all of those clothes are yours, the rest could've been put away, but your parents don't generate laundry — the bath towel hooks had dust on them. You live here alone, don’t you?”

No use denying it. Yana shrugged. “My parents like long-term trips.”

It was a mistake. The sudden cold silence said that much.

“You told me they were gone for the weekend.” Bell’s tone was suddenly sharp, and Yana knew that if she looked up from her work then she would be met with a glare. “And you said you got a weekly allowance, which was why you couldn’t pay me when I asked for it. How can you get a weekly allowance when your parents aren't even home?”

Shit.  _ I can’t tell her. She’ll think I’m the worst person in the world, if she doesn’t already.  _ But then she had nothing else to say. 

More silence gaped between them, Bell’s growing anger the only thing pulsing through it. When she realized Yana wasn’t going to talk, she pressed on. Her words practically dripped with sarcasm. 

“What? No alibi, Miss ‘I’m-Gonna-Be-The-Best-Lawyer-Ever’?”

Yana grit her teeth. “No.”

“So if it wasn’t for money, why’d you invite me to this party, huh? Was it just so I could be a pawn for your little game with Matt and his girlfriend, or did you plan that awful kiss, too? Why? Just to —  _ to humiliate me?  _ To give your guests something to laugh at? So you could laugh at me as you got my hopes up with all this, this transparent pampering and being nice, like, ‘ _ Oh, hahaha, Bell thinks that I’m actually a nice person because I helped her put some fucking band-aids on!’” _

Bell’s voice shot up to a shriek and Yana squeezed her eyes shut, clenching the washcloth in her hands.  _ No. No no no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.  _

“I’m sorry,” Yana whispered, but she already knew that it wouldn’t stop Bell. 

“HA! I bet you’re sorry!” Bell laughed, her laugh high and bitter as vinegar. “Sorry that you couldn’t keep me up on that table any longer so more people could  _ laugh at my ugly face!” _

Yana couldn’t take it. Pain rotted away in her gut, but only now she knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. She whirled around, gritting her teeth. 

“Bell, stop it!”

“Why? Why should I stop?” She was crying again, worse than before. “You’re manipulative and you’re cruel and you’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen — you’re not trying to take care of me, you’re just trying to cover your own ass, because you’re a selfish BITCH!  _ Why else would you do it?” _

Yana went silent. She knew what she wanted to say. But she couldn’t; it would just be guilt-tripping by this point, or at the very least it would  _ sound  _ like a guilt-trip. 

Except she really really wanted to say it. She’d wanted to say it for four years. If it had even the smallest chance of making Bell feel better, then she had to. If it would let Yana wipe the tears from Bell’s cheeks, if it would let Bell know that she wasn’t ugly or unwanted, if it would let loose the years and years of guilt and silence trapped within the walls of her parents’ damned house, then she had to say it. 

And yet she still stayed silent. Paralyzed, deaf, and dumb. 

Bell sniffled. She let the crutch drop to the ground with a loud clatter so that she could wipe her eyes on her sleeves, then wrap her arms around herself in a hug. She wouldn’t look at Yana. 

“I’m going home,” she murmured. “I can give your shorts back on Monday. But after that, I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

She turned to leave.

Yana thought that she knew what heartbreak felt like. She’d had boyfriends before, three of them, and though she had never cherished them like she cherished Bell, she had cried when they left. It was a dull ache that made her crave chocolate ice cream and that was heartbreak, right? 

Now, she knew she was wrong. That had been loneliness. This was the stab of a blade, right in her chest, and she was doing it to herself. Because of Bell. 

“Wait,” Yana blurted.

Bell stopped in the doorway. But she didn’t turn around, and Yana hesitated. 

_ I can’t believe I’m doing this.  _

“If we’re never going to speak again, I need to get something off my chest. I can’t let this go unsaid.”

“I don’t want another fake apology, Yana — ”

“It’s not.” 

Yana looked at her feet, then her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. And for the first time in her life, Yana knew what it was like to have stage fright.

She crossed the distance to Bell, dropped down to one knee, and lifted her head. When she finally looked, Bell was staring, her eyes wide. Her beautiful brown eyes.

And Yana knew that she had to pretend, or she would lose her nerve, so she took Bell’s hand and closed her eyes again and tried to dive back into the fantasy. The fantasy that there was a diamond ring in her pocket, and that it would fit perfectly on Bell’s soft hand. The fantasy of arriving to the wedding, where Bell was wearing a suit and her cute nervous smile, and where Yana wore all white and lace. The fantasy of Bell blushing and Yana pushing Bell’s overgrown bangs out of her eyes before kissing her again, again, again, whenever Yana wished. The fantasy of Bell carrying her through the doors of their new home, where they would spend all night talking excitedly about the plans for their new firm (Zaranti, Zarcero & Associates, PC?). It was a fantasy that she had dedicated years to, ever since she met Bell at freshman orientation and fell in love with those dark brown eyes. 

“I’m risking my life to tell you this,” Yana whispered, “But I have wanted to say it ever since I met you. I don’t expect you to believe it or for you to stay when you hear it. But I can’t let you go without telling you.”

She inhaled shakily. 

“I’m in love with you, Bell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	5. The Lover, Part II

_ “I’m in love with you.” _

The room fell quiet. The only sound between Yana’s gaze and Bell’s wide eyes was the gentle rumbling of the clothes dryer. 

Then Bell laughed. 

“HA! Oh my god, ahahahahah...like I haven’t heard  _ that _ before! That’s really fucking funny, Yana, you almost had me for a second. You know, normally when people fake-ask me out, all of their friends are there to laugh at me...too bad, because you really almost had me! Ha! Nice try, asshole…ahahaha…”

Yana blinked. To her surprise, there were tears. Hastily, she wiped her eyes, stood, and turned her back to Bell. Shit. Well...it could have gone worse…

“Wait — you  _ were _ joking, right?”

The question was sudden enough to freeze Yana right in her tracks. “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, but it came out harsher than she had meant it to.

Bell rolled her eyes. “Well, jeez, I can’t tell, because if you weren’t joking, then you were lying about hating me, and that’s a stretch!”

“I never hated you — ”

“What, am I supposed to believe our flaming rivalry was all an act?”

The image of Bell, squirming nervously during mock trial, came to Yana’s mind and made her cheeks flush red. “We were still rivals. I just didn’t hate you.”

Bell scoffed. “Give me a fucking break. You can’t even remember my name half the time.”

“Isabel Izarra Zarcero,” Yana said without hesitation. “During freshman orientation, four years ago, our group played a stupid game where we said our middle initial and people had to guess our full name. Nobody could get yours, and you didn’t want to say it, because you knew people would be twice as likely to call you Izzy. You hate Izzy.”

“Yes! Yes I do! And you still fucking called me that!”

“I…liked having your attention.”

“Well, you got it! Now get it over and laugh about it!” Bell was yelling now, and fumbled with her glasses to clean the tears off them. She sniffled, scrunched up her face, and looked like she was seriously considering just spitting at Yana. “Go on. Laugh at your whole big joke, it’s over. I’m not falling for another bit of it.”

“Why would I joke about liking you?” Yana demanded. “I saw you sneak off into the library. You saw what my parents say about homosexuals. Why would I joke about it if it could get me killed?”

The room went quiet. 

“It wouldn’t get you...killed,” said Bell weakly. But Yana turned away. It was getting difficult to look her in the eye again. 

“Interview with the Washington Post, November 1995. On Solving the Homosexual AIDs Epidemic,” she snapped. She had these declarations memorized. “When asked what he suggested be done with the homosexuals, Vittorino Zaranti responded, ‘The best way to deal with them is through advanced psychological counseling in order to restore them back to society. The most effective breakthroughs as of late have been through what we call conversion therapy.’ Conversion therapy, as Zaranti explained, is a complex set of physical and psychological treatments including hormone medications and negative-image association, whereby the patient is given a strong electric shock when shown homosexual imagery. Some methods of therapy, like those employed by Christian ministry Exodus International, focus more on prayer and spiritual connection. Eventually, with the patient’s cooperation, he can be converted back to normal and enjoy a heterosexual life again. ‘Repeatedly-offending homosexuals, especially those with sexually transmitted diseases,’ Zaranti continued, ‘may also choose to serve prison time.’”

Yana blinked hard, pushing back tears. 

“Whenever they actually talk to me, they always say how proud they are of me,” she forced through gritted teeth. “Proud that I could go to such a liberal school in the middle of L.A. and still be such a good, smart, straight girl. Yana’s nothing like those awful homosexuals and their rape agendas! Wow, we’re so proud that our daughter isn’t a man-hater; if she was, we’d have to put her into a conversion therapy camp where she’s taught how to hate herself, or lock her in prison until she’s dead…”

Her voice caught in her throat. She wasn’t typically a crier, but this was her world, this was her only demon in an otherwise perfect life, and she knew it was so entitled to pity herself, but it  _ hurt.  _

“That’s why I did it,” she finished weakly. “I kissed you because I like you.”

Silence, as it did, returned. Finally Bell huffed. 

“Well, just because you claim to like me doesn’t mean you can humiliate me. You’re still a bitch and I’m not sorry for you.”

“I know.” Yana sighed. “But I wanted to apologize.”

“ ‘Wanted to apologize’ barely cuts it — ”

“I know! I know. I really do. I just — I just didn’t want you to leave without knowing. That...you’re...really cute.”

Heat flooded her cheeks and Yana became grateful that she was already not facing Bell, as to hide it would have been too obvious. But did it really matter? Did anything? Because the only thing in her life that  _ did _ matter was standing at the door, her fists clenched as if to wring Yana’s neck. And it broke Yana’s heart that she had done this to herself. To Bell. She had ruined Bell’s reputation, her dignity, even her first kiss, and all because Yana couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Couldn’t stop lying to everyone around her and making this whole facade of the rich and pretty bitch, just to get a bittersweet taste of what she truly wanted. 

To love someone.

In the gaping silence that followed, there at last came the sounds of uneven footsteps, growing fainter. Without a single word to Yana, Bell limped away, leaving the laundry room door open behind her. Then, when she was gone, Yana crumpled to the ground against the wall and hid her face in her hands.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, bitterly trying not to cry, before the limping footsteps returned. When she lifted her head, Bell stood in the doorway again, a puzzled look on her face.

“Do you really think I’m…” Bell couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Hastily, Yana wiped her eyes and looked away. “Cute.”

Bell said nothing.

“I wish it was just that,” Yana laughed bitterly. “If you were just cute then I might’ve been able to forget about you and move on. But no. You just had to cross over into the category of perhaps the most spirited, beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re lying.”

Yana finally managed to meet her gaze. “I would swear it on a Bible if I had one.”

Bell blinked. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but glimmered with curiosity. And suddenly it hit Yana that the tables had turned, even without her meaning to turn them. One of the things she loved about Bell was that she never caved to manipulation unless she wanted to; her emotions were her own, untainted by even Yana’s most compelling, charismatic arguments. Either she still thought that Yana was lying and had decided to play along with the game she saw...or, for the first time, she glimpsed Yana as no one had ever seen her before. As a lost, broken, lonely asshole.

Finally Bell shifted her weight to her good leg and folded her arms. “Alright. Humor me,” she said, seemingly aloof. “Why did you lie about paying me?”

“I didn’t lie,” Yana replied. “I genuinely don’t have any more cash that I could give you.”

“Right…”

“My parents gave me a credit card for groceries and personal spending and it’s up to me to decide how that’s divided up. All of my transactions are reviewed by my mom’s secretary. So if I want to have a party like this, I have to withdraw small increments of cash for a few weeks to save up. Cash can’t be tracked by strict parents.”

“Strict parents, you say, and yet they’ve been gone for months.”

“Tour of Europe, working with the UN, but mostly just touring. Yeah.” Yana sighed. “They think of me as an investment. I’m not their kid, I’m an asset to their financial empire who will support their dreams of retiring as billionaires. They’ve even been putting money away for...something like a dowry, so I can marry a rich old man and accumulate more money. So they check up on me, but it’s the same way that they check up on their business partners. They want me to be the perfect pawn, that’s all.”

Bell was quiet as she took that in. Then she said, “At least you’ll have money.”

“Money’s got  _ bullshit _ on love,” Yana shot back. 

Bell’s glare hardened. “You’ve never been too poor to eat, have you?”

Yana opened her mouth, realized that what she wanted to say was probably offensive, and closed it again. “I haven’t,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry. I just get wrapped up in myself, I know that I’m so pampered but I still pity myself! It’s pathetic. It really is.

“But sometimes it just...hurts so much. Being so goddamn lonely. Having these parties is the only way I can keep the house from getting so silent that I want to hang myself from the chandelier. It’s why — ” she bit her lip “ — it’s why I got so awful and possessive of you. I’ve wanted you to come to a party for so long that when I got my chance, I couldn’t pass it up.”

Another pause. Yana was getting uncomfortable on the ground, but she didn’t dare stand. For some reason, Bell’s presence was fragile, as if one wrong move from Yana would send her storming off again. She didn’t want her to leave. 

“Why did you make me talk to Matt, then?” Bell asked. “If you loved me so much, wouldn’t that hurt?” 

“Because I knew he’d never hook up with you.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“No, no — I mean, okay, you probably figured out the drama with his girlfriend. But Matt’s too loyal; he’d never cheat on her. I made you talk to him because he typically doesn’t leave my parties until I kick him out. If he could get you to stay longer, I’d have a better chance of talking to you. Maybe even...you know, being alone together, driving you home.” 

In spite of herself, she laughed breathily. “I even thought about it last night as I went to bed,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “You know how you imagine whole scenes that you want to happen in the future? I dreamed that maybe you’d be tired at the end of the night and I could invite you to sleep over, and maybe you could share my bed and I’d confess my secret and you’d be okay with it and we’d have our first kiss...God. I’m just making this weird.”

“You already did,” said Bell flatly. 

“I did! Yeah. I did.” Another forced laugh. This one burned, like each of her ribs was piercing her lungs. 

Because it was all wrong. Everything about it was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, this wasn’t how finding love was supposed to be, and Yana was just pushing Bell further and further away. She wanted Bell to come to her of her own volition but she also wanted to play the cards to  _ make  _ that happen, even though it wasn’t the natural course of things. Oh, God forbid that Yana ever say it aloud, but she knew she wished to die; if she couldn’t have love in the form of Bell Zarcero then there was nothing left to live for. 

But she could never say it. If Yana died, it would be no one’s fault but her own. 

She clenched her fists, her teeth, her eyelids until she could hear the blood rushing through her head. She had fucked up so many things in her life that they could keep her awake for days if she tried to think of them all, but this was by far the worst because she had dragged someone down with her. Inhaling shakily, Yana pushed herself to her feet, supporting herself on the washing machine. 

“I’m...sorry,” she whispered.

Bell met her eyes. Her face was inscrutable, but cold, as if daring Yana to continue on. 

“I know you might never forgive me. I understand,” said Yana. “But if there’s anything I can do for you, just — just tell me. And I’ll do it.”

The room fell into silence for what felt like thousands of years.. At some point, even the dryer had switched off, leaving the two of them alone; the only sound was the distant, muffled beat of music from upstairs. Then, even that too was turned down. Footsteps made their way across the ceiling towards the front door. The whole house slowly, but surely froze, as Bell’s solemn gaze bored into Yana’s. 

And then Bell leaned over, picked up the crutch from the ground, and limped towards Yana. So close that Yana had to back up to give her space, but soon her back bumped against the wall, and Bell only stopped once her shoes were an inch away from stepping on Yana’s toes. Not that she didn’t like being close to Bell, but Bell was much taller when Yana wasn’t wearing platform shoes, letting Bell look down on her, and this was unusually close for casual conversation. 

“What are you doing?” Yana asked automatically.

“Checking you for sweat,” said Bell, completely deadpan.

“Excuse me?”

“I noticed two signs of lying while you spoke to me, avoidance of eye contact and excessive fidgeting with the hands, so I’m looking for a third sign to make sure. But you smell just as disgusting as always, so maybe you are a little honest.”

God, she was so hot. Even if she wasn’t trying to be, the fact that she was able to surprise Yana was enough to bring the thought to mind. Yana’s ego suffered to articulate it, but Bell was so much smarter than Yana that it made her weak in the knees. She couldn’t help but stare. Bell’s soft brown face, the cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose. Her mad genius eyes, locked on Yana’s, an unfathomable glimmer within their depths. And her lips. A prominent Cupid’s bow; a natural plumpness to the lower lip, the one she sometimes chewed when nervous…

“I’m not lying,” Yana said. “I can prove it.”

Bell inclined her chin and looked down her nose. “Can you?”

Rage flared in Bell’s eyes, but Yana didn’t break her gaze. In that moment, she let herself go. She didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t bother to look forward or back. This was just how it was going to be. 

“Yeah,” she answered softly. “I’m sorry for your first kiss. I’ll...try not to ruin your second one.”

“What — ”

Yana lifted her hand to Bell’s face. Maybe it was just the surprise, but it stopped Bell right in her tracks. Her eyes were wide and glittering and stunned, her lips slightly parted — Yana couldn’t look away. 

When she kissed Bell for the second time, she was gentle. The possessiveness was still there in Yana’s hand cupped around the back of Bell’s head. But now there was something much deeper, more reverent. Bell tasted sweet on her tongue and her hair was like strands of silk between the grasp of Yana’s fingers. Yana’s stomach didn’t clench up in guilt when she reveled in it. It might have been foolish to call it love when Bell didn’t want it, and yet this time something tempted the word again.

As Yana kissed Bell, slow and soft and sweet, with her eyes barely closed, she realized that Bell was kissing her back. 

The dance lasted only a few moments before they broke apart, both breathing shakily. Then they stared at each other through wide, owlish eyes. They both knew — something was different. 

“What did you just do?” Bell whispered. 

“I...well...I kissed you,” Yana replied, equally bewildered.

“I’m not stupid,” said Bell. “Why was it like — like that?”

Yana looked down. “Nobody was watching,” she said at last.

For a moment, Bell just stared blankly. Then she stepped back, leaning against the dryer to support herself. “Oh my god,” she murmured and rubbed her forehead. “Ohhhh my god. I need a moment.”

“Are you...okay?” Yana couldn’t help but ask, folding her hands nervously. 

“I don’t think I’m prepared to answer that question,” said Bell. She put her hands over her mouth, then behind her head, then wrapped them around her body. She stared, glassy-eyed, at the wall.

A thousand worries spun through Yana’s head, but the only one that came out was, “Was it bad?”

“I — ” Bell put her hand over her mouth again and found a fascination with her sneakers. “No.”

For the first time it seemed as if Bell had been struck totally speechless. More than ever, Yana wished she could climb into her head, touch her hand and feel what she was feeling, or even just ask and have her tell her, but it wasn’t that simple. So she just waited, staring. After a few moments of silence, she glanced down to the sink. Bell’s torn pants were soaking in the cold basin of water, but had been there for the whole fight. So Yana matter-of-factly pulled them out, wrung them dry, and threw them in the washer with a small load of darks.

When she turned around, Bell was sitting on the floor, her face blank and distraught. After a second Yana sat next to her.

“Do you really think I’m pretty?” asked Bell, turning to Yana. Their eyes locked and Yana nodded. 

“More than that. You’re brilliant. But I’m never sure if you know that.”

Bell’s brow furrowed. “Brilliant.”

“Yeah. It’s so fucking dumb, but…” Yana chuckled in spite of herself. “Back when I had first met you, even before you really ever spoke to me, I used to dream of you a lot. I thought, ‘This girl would complete me. Together, we would be unstoppable’. You know how it is — you see someone and somehow you can read them like an open book, like you’ve never been able to read anyone else before, and the sudden clarity just...lights a spark. So you think about them a lot.”

“And you lied about…all of it? You pretended to hate me to cover that all up?”

“I had no choice. You’re the only person I’ve told about — about myself, being gay or bisexual or whatever I am, I don’t even know, but I couldn’t risk letting anyone else know. If it got back to my parents, it’d be over for me.”

“Oh.”

They both went quiet. Then Bell sighed and closed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About your parents.” 

Yana shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you…all those times that I did. Maybe pretending to hate you wasn’t the best way out of it.”

“Yeah…”

Another deep, deep silence. And then Bell, again, broke it. 

“Yana…”

“Yeah?”

“About the kiss…the, the second one, I…” Bell bit her lip, fiddled with her sleeve, and exhaled shakily. “It was nice.”

Inadvertently, Yana sat up straighter, her eyes wide. “What?”

“I mean — I still don’t know how to feel about you. I don’t think I’m gay and I, okay, I kind of still hate you. But — ” Bell grimaced. “I, well, I liked the kiss. It felt really good. And — I — I want you to do it again.”

When Bell said it, Yana didn’t quite comprehend it. Her jaw went slack. It might have been a full minute before she was actually able to respond. Bell liked it. Bell liked the kiss. Bell wanted to kiss her again. It sounded more like a demand than a request, but what did it matter? Bell didn’t hate her as much as she used to; even if Yana had fucked up the first kiss, she had more than just a second shot. She had a third. And perhaps more to come.

“Yes!” Yana blurted.

Before Bell could get in another word, Yana grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. It was, in hindsight, one of the stupidest and most teenager-ish things she’d ever done. She hadn’t bothered to ask Bell why, for how long, or with what intensity she should kiss her. But in the moment none of that mattered because Bell’s lips were against hers. 

At first, Bell seemed as surprised and stiff as the horrible first kiss, and for a split second Yana worried that she’d done something wrong. But then Bell was reciprocating, caving to Yana’s touch and wrapping her arms around Yana’s back. Their noses bumped awkwardly as they shifted positions. Finally they settled to where Yana was in Bell’s lap, straddling her legs and bending down to meet her lips, and it was so clumsy but  _ holy shit,  _ it was awesome. Her whole body tingled. 

When they broke away, Bell’s hands never left Yana, lingering where they had come to rest on the back of Yana’s head. Their foreheads pressed together and they breathed hard. 

“I still...hate you,” Bell whispered.

“I’m okay with that,” Yana replied. She touched Bell’s cheek. “Why do this, then?”

Bell didn’t answer at first, which was okay, because Yana was wondering about something else as well — the miracle of Bell pressing faintly into Yana’s touch. Then Bell sighed. 

“I’m lonely,” she said. “I came to this party worrying that too many people would be looking at me. But the only time anyone noticed that I existed was...was when I was up there, with you.”

Yana wasn’t sure what to say. Sorry didn’t really cut it. Bell let out a longer second sigh and lifted her hand to cover Yana’s. 

“I think, besides my mom and dad, this is the first time anyone’s said they like me,” Bell admitted. “It sounds so stupid, but, heh, it almost makes me want to forgive you for tormenting me every time you saw me.”

“Will concede on the stupid part,” Yana replied. “I hope you don’t do that.”

“I won’t. You’re still a cunt.”

“Thanks.”

Bell kissed her again. It was rough and there was definitely a note of the “you’re still a cunt” in it, but it was something, at least. 

“You know,” Yana smirked when they pulled apart, “if you’re still hell-bent on never seeing me again after tonight, I can just finish washing and drying your pants now, and you can go home when they’re done. The house is empty, there’s plenty to do in the meantime.”

Bell raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”   


Yana shrugged. “Dunno. Mistakes you can only make when you’re in high school.”

“You mean to say, illegal alcohol.”   


Another shrug. “Doesn’t have to be.”

Bell hesitated as she thought, pressing her lips together. But when she looked back at Yana, there were sparks in her eyes — twin lights, young and new and cautious.

“Okay,” said Bell. “I want to make a mistake. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
> 
> im too tired to write a real author's note whoopie


	6. The Lover, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE BE SEXYTIMES! i turn 18 and immediately the first thing i do is post smut. 
> 
> after yana's cheesy as fuck pickup line (there are a number of them but there's one that's particularly bad, you'll know what it is when you get there because you'll go "yana what the fuck" and so will bell) the lemons begin, so kiddies look awayyyy

“Yana, I’m not doing this.”

“Aww, c’mon!”

“No! What about my scrapes? Isn’t that gross, having band-aids in a pool?”

“Those are, like, waterproof band-aids. And I’m cleaning the pool tomorrow so it’s not like it’ll matter.”

“We’re drunk, it’s dangerous!”

“You didn’t even finish your cocktail. You’re not drunk.”

“I — well — I don’t have a swimsuit!”

“Fortunately for you I have an extra one of mine right here, in the pool closet, kept away for a situation exactly like this! Strip, dress, and dip, sis!” 

“Yanaaaaaa…”

She whined, but she was smiling. Snickering to herself, Yana reached into the pool closet, pulled out the bikini pieces, and tossed them to Bell. “Put ‘em on inside or out here, doesn’t matter,” she told Bell. “We’re both girls here.”

Yana wriggled out of her shirt, revealing the yellow bikini underneath. She had originally planned to swim, but got carried away with hosting the party, then kissing Bell, then consoling her, then agreeing to do fun rebellious things with her, then giving her a taste test of all kinds of alcohol with her, and so on so forth...which brought them here. The pool patio was covered in crumpled red Solo cups and other litter from the long-gone party, but that was okay, and the pool water seemed relatively clean. 

Bell, sitting demurely on a beach chair, looked at the bikini pieces and then back up at Yana. “It’s too cold to swim,” she pointed out snobbily. It was only sixty-five degrees. “It’s January.”

“Pool’s heated,” Yana shrugged. She unbuttoned her pants and kicked them off as well. A bit of pride flared in her chest. She’d always wanted to show off her body in front of Bell, and this tiny bikini definitely helped. When she smirked at Bell, Bell pressed her lips together and averted her eyes. 

“Fuck you,” Bell muttered, grabbing her crutch and her loaned bathing suit. 

Several minutes later, she limped from the house wearing the skimpy black bikini and looking all the more embarrassed for it. “Fuck you again,” she said.

“Oh, honey, I dream about it,” Yana snickered. “You look good.” She really did. She was still skinny, if a little pudgier than Yana had imagined her under her normally-baggy clothes. The pudge was cute. And her chest really was nice. 

Bell scowled as she hobbled to the beach chair, set down her crutch, and began to unwrap the bandage around her ankle. “Yana, I need help getting into the pool.”

“Of course, of course.”

Yana came up next to Bell and let her lean on her, but just as they came up next to the pool, Bell hesitated. “Wait…uh…my band-aid’s peeling off,” she said, ducking down into a crouch and out from under Yana’s arm. 

Yana really should have predicted what happened next, but even if she had, she wasn’t sure if she could have been fast enough to avoid Bell’s attack. Bell shoved her, and in a terribly un-graceful flailing of arms and legs, Yana stumbled back into the pool. 

As she bobbed back up to the surface and spluttered water, Bell was cackling uncontrollably. “HA! I got you good!” she hooted, pointing a finger at Yana.

“I guess I deserved that,” Yana chuckled. This area of the pool wasn’t that deep, so she stood and waved to Bell for her to jump in. “Now get in here so I can dunk you.”

Bell laughed and sat down on the edge, barely dipping her toes in the water. “Nooooo, I’ll get in at my own pace; thank you very much…”

“Then I’ll splash you ‘til you’re in!” Yana shoved her hands through the water and sent a wave towards Bell, soaking her. She shrieked. 

“Ack! Yana!”

“That’s what you get!”

“My glasses are still on, seriously!”

“Put ‘em on that table. Now get in!”

“Oh my god, fine.”

She lowered herself in, tentatively at first, then all at once as she seemed to realize how warm the water was. Instantly, Yana grabbed her hand and pulled her close. Bell was radiant — the water glistened on her dark skin and the pool lights colored her a rich shade of blue, like a precious jewel resting in Yana’s hands. She kissed her. There was no decorum anymore; just clumsy lips, roaming hands, and tangled legs, all but the kiss hidden beneath the blur of the pool water.

And then when they pulled away from each other, Yana grinned, hooked her arm over Bell’s shoulders, and dunked her.

They dunked and splashed and kissed each other until their fingertips became wrinkly and they couldn’t stop giggling. It was almost one in the morning. Despite her own weariness, Yana helped Bell out of the pool, wrapped her in towels from the pool closet, and brought her inside. They were both sick of party snacks, so Yana turned on the stove and began to experiment with the things in the fridge.

“You know how to cook?” asked Bell. She sat at the island, lazily sipping a watered-down rosé spritzer. Yana crossed the kitchen, her arms full of Tupperware containers.

“Of course,” said Yana airily. “Did you assume we have a personal cook who prepares my every meal?”

Bell took another sip. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hmph.” Yana stood across from her and pulled out a cutting board, beginning to chop up some cloves of garlic. “Well, part of training to be a rich lawyer-slash-trophy wife is learning how to cook. Plus you get kind of good at it if you live on your own for a few years.”

Once finished with the garlic, she turned to the stove, where she pushed the garlic into a saucepan with some olive oil. When it was done she added some cold cooked pasta and began to experiment with some of the random cheeses she had pulled out.

After a while, Bell repeated, “A few years?”

Yana glanced up briefly. “What about ‘em?”

“You’ve been living here on your own for years?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. My parents are around during holidays sometimes, and every once in awhile they stick around for a month to do local work. And I hate them anyway.”

“That still terrible,” said Bell, clearly distressed. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Yana shrugged. She reached for the alfredo sauce — she liked a lot of alfredo when she was mildly upset. “So what about you? Model family, two and a half siblings, what?”

Bell hesitated. When Yana glanced over her shoulder, she saw Bell tracing shapes in the condensation on her glass, clearly stalling. Finally she sighed. “No. It’s just me and my mom right now. My dad’s in the army; he...never finished high school, and neither did my mom, so military’s the best option that pays to support all of us...but at least they still love me. They don’t make a lot but they try their best.”

“I understand.” Yana turned back to her strange concoction on the stove — essentially just reheated ditalini pasta with a shit-ton of random melted cheeses, garlic, and some things picked on instinct from the spice rack. Carefully, she spooned equal portions into two bowls.

“Hope you like cheese,” she told Bell, placing the bowl and a fork in front of her.

Bell raised an eyebrow and examined a loose piece of ditalini. “This is...the weirdest-looking pasta ever.”   


“They’re cute!” Yana grinned and sat next to her. “They’re like little, non-curvy macaronis. They pair well with pretty much every sauce, that’s why I use them so often."

She couldn’t help but wait with bated breath as Bell tried her first forkful. Then Bell’s eyes widened. “Mmmph...holy shit.”

“Is it good?”

“What the fuck, yes, this is awesome! I thought I was sick of mac-n-cheese!”

She began shoveling the pasta indecorously into her mouth, washing it down with rosé spritzer. In that moment, Yana doubted if she had ever seen anyone more beautiful. This was what kept her going whenever she was told to cultivate some habit or another for her future husband, this was the hope — that she would be doing it for Bell instead.

And now, for the first time in a long time, she knew she was happy.

They ate and drank until they were full and sleepy and Yana had to half-carry Bell and her towels up the stairs. There was no way Bell could’ve gotten truly drunk on a spritzer so light, but perhaps the placebo of “I just drank alcohol” was enough to put her out of business. She was a giggly, overaffectionate mess. 

“Yana, I’m not gay,” she yawned, leaning on her shoulder, “but if I was, I’d be gay for you.”

“That’s the dream, baby,” Yana chuckled. She led Bell back into her parents’ bathroom and helped her sit. “Let’s get those band-aids changed.”

She helped Bell replace her band-aids, clean her wounds, and wrap her ankle again. Then, while Bell dressed herself in what she had, Yana retrieved Bell’s newly-washed and dried jeans. 

By the time Yana emerged from her room in a robe, Bell emerged from her parents’ room in her own clothes. They stood at the top of the stairs for a moment. Bell’s hair was still messy and damp, loose strands hanging in front of her eyes until she shyly tucked them behind her ear. 

“I should go,” she said quietly. “I can just call my mom, she’ll be here in maybe ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Yana replied. She couldn’t say she wanted to see her go. The night had been fun, but her heart still ached. “May I kiss you goodbye?”

Bell nodded and bent down to meet her lips. It was clearly meant to just be a simple, chaste kiss, but Yana surprised her by throwing her arms over Bell’s shoulders. Bell gasped into her mouth before the tension of the gasp quickly left, letting her relax. Her hands fell to Yana’s waist. 

This new kiss was shocking, sudden, like a free fall and the adrenaline that came with it. And this one lasted. Yana indulged herself and savored every second, fearing that Bell would break away, but she only parted to inhale before diving back in. Their hands roamed, hungry and unafraid in the empty house. Heat bubbled in Yana’s gut and she wanted so badly to touch Bell all over, to claim what was hers, but forced herself to leave the buttons alone. Twenty seconds passed in a blink. A minute, in a breath. 

Yana wasn’t sure if Bell had pulled her, or if she had pushed Bell, but in a rush of light and taste then Bell was suddenly against the wall and Yana’s body pressed into hers. Bell tasted like rosé as Yana pushed her tongue into her mouth, she made the cutest little noises and the way she ran her hands through Yana’s hair was so nice, her hips began to stir and push back against Yana’s and —

“W-wait.” Bell broke away from the kiss. Yana stepped back, eyes wide. 

“Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s just...GAH.” She ran her hands through her hair, stepped past Yana, and leaned against the wall. “This feels wrong. I’m not dating you, I barely know you, I still kind of hate you, and I’m — making out with you. A — and grinding on you.”

Her voice tapered off at the last few words as she met Yana’s eyes. Her face wasn’t hurt, just confused. Lost.

“I...mean...I don’t want to stop. But if you want, we can,” said Yana reluctantly.

“I don’t want to stop!” Bell blurted. “That’s what I’m so confused about, everything’s just going so fast and I don’t know how to feel about it. It feels wrong. But — well — if you stop and I leave, then I’m probably going to just avoid you because I’m embarrassed, and we’ll never talk to each other again, and I’m going to be very disappointed in myself for not doing more while I could!”

She hid her face in her hands, but she wasn’t crying, just frustrated. Yana almost opened her mouth and let loose what lingered at the front of her mind, then stopped and reasoned that it would not be tactful, then finally decided to say it anyway.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone lost their virginity at one of my parties.”

“Well, I kind of figured that,” Bell responded. “But — I don’t know — what we’re doing — what, what I want to do with you...it’s not exactly  _ sex,  _ is it? It’s just touching, right? But if it is, you know, then — GAH! I just don’t know what to do now. I don’t know why I’m so indecisive. I’m overthinking this, I know it.”

Yana bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced away. “I don’t think you’re overthinking it,” she finally said. “Do you want to stay?”

“No.” A hesitation, then Bell said, “Yes. I’m not sure.” 

“Well, it’s gotta be one of those.”

“I’m not sure! I don’t know what I want. All I know is that when we’re, you know, together...kissing...it feels really good and I want more. Except, well, you’re a girl.”

Yana raised an eyebrow. “So if I had a dick, you’d feel more comfortable with the proposition of a one-night stand?”

“No! Well — maybe — I don’t know, because I’ve never been liked by a guy before. I’ve never really...liked a guy enough to want to have sex with him. Or kiss him. Or...anything.”

The other eyebrow went up, as well as a small smirk. “So I’m special.”

“You’re still my least favorite person on the planet,” Bell said sternly. “Don’t get a big head.”

Despite the insult, Yana chuckled. But now she was bold. Slowly she stepped forward and took Bell’s soft, thin hand in both of her own, loose enough that Bell could pull away if she wanted but still sending the subtle message of desire. “How about this?” Yana smiled daringly. “Stay just a little longer. Kiss me some more, enjoy yourself as long as you’d like, and we’ll figure out what to do when we get there.”

Bell sighed as she thought, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll try it.” She kissed Yana on the cheek and Yana led her to her room.

In hindsight, Yana would wonder if she maybe should have rearranged her room for an occasion such as this, but also in hindsight she would remember that she hadn’t planned on Bell actually coming. So she just had to live with her mistake. When Yana opened the door and led Bell inside, Yana was suddenly self-conscious at how...childish it was. It wasn’t just the baby yellow bee-themed wallpaper that she’d had since she was three and never wanted to take down; nor was it the brass furniture and glass chandelier that she liked to pretend were pure gold and diamonds. Well, those didn’t help. 

What really made the room was the extensive collection of Power Rangers memorabilia. Three posters, a small shrine for her complete set of action figures, the Deluxe Thunderzord Megazord assault figure on her bedside table, and the centerpiece — a rather large stuffed Yellow Ranger sitting in the center of her double bed.

“You…really like Power Rangers,” said Bell, which was kind of an understatement.

“Oh — yeah, haha,” replied Yana, her cheeks warming. Quickly, she grabbed Yellow and tossed her off the bed, but then felt bad and set her more gently on a chair. “What, you can’t pretend like you don’t have an embarrassing interest. Spill.”

She clicked on the bedside lamp and plopped herself down onto her bed, curling up against her nest of pillows. Bell, meanwhile, perched shyly on the edge of the bed with her hands folded in her lap. “Well...not really, I spend all my time studying. I don’t do action shows.”

“Doesn’t have to be action shows, could be anything. Movies, books, games, music — don’t tell me you don’t watch MTV. What do you like?”

“You really wanna know?”

“You’re sitting in my Power Rangers lair, you know what my guilty pleasure is. Only fair that I know yours.”

“Fine.” She folded her arms. “It’s musical theatre.”   


Huh. 

“That’s not that weird,” Yana said. After all, L.A. did tend to attract musical theatre types, since Hollywood. Just...Bell, really? “I never would’ve predicted it of you, but it’s not super weird.”

“It kind of is.” Bell snorted. “At least, the way I like it is weird. See, okay. I was born in Chicago, and I lived up there until I finished grade school. And during grade school, I used to be a major theatre kid — I’ve played Annie, Dorothy, Cinderella, you get the picture, right? I was really good! Leading lady three years in a row, which some people were mad about, but our school was small and it wasn’t like a lot of people could actually sing. The thing was, I didn’t want to make it my career. It was just something I liked to do.

“So we move down here, and I want to get involved in middle school theatre, thinking that my six years of experience has to count for something. Except that — well, it really didn’t. Theatre down here is just that competitive. You know there are kids whose  _ parents _ are pushing them to become movie stars? It’s crazy! If you don’t make theatre your one and only goal in life, you don’t belong onstage. And the directors all want to be known as the former mentor of a Hollywood star, so they’re so biased towards these little divas and then it’s just hell for the rest of us. So I quit. Sang for the ensemble in  _ My Fair Lady  _ and then quit. It just wasn’t fun anymore.”

“Ouch,” said Yana, cringing. She wasn’t very familiar with theatre, but she knew plenty of theatre kids. She generally tried to avoid them.

“And the perfectionism. God.” Bell groaned and rubbed her forehead, as if the memory alone gave her a headache. “Our director screamed at Eliza because she forgot one line. ONE, and it wasn’t even important. She cried backstage for an hour. But you know, that’s theatre in Holly-fuckin-wood. No such thing as doing it just because you like it.”

“Yeah…” Yana nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. “I know how that feels.”

Bell regarded her curiously. “Do you?”

“Unfortunately.” Yana met her eyes and cocked her head, smirking. “You think I wouldn’t die to work for the ACLU? Or, as my parents call it, the Anti-American Communist Liberal Union? That wouldn’t be work, that’d be so fucking awesome, you have no idea. But that’s not ‘real law,’ and it doesn’t pay. You can’t just do it because you like it. See, I feel you.”

“I don’t think that’s one hundred percent comparable, but good enough.” She gave a small laugh and glanced nervously away, as she had a habit of doing.

But Yana wouldn’t let her go this time. She sat up, slid next to her, and placed her hand gently under Bell’s, lifting it to kiss it. 

“I’d like to hear you sing someday,” she whispered. “But all I want now is to hear you moan.”

Bell’s eyes went wide for a second. Then she snorted. 

“Yana, what the fuck.”

“Too much?”

“Yeah, ya think? Please never say that again.”

“Alright, alright...well, I can’t think of any pickup lines that aren’t equally terrible, so just let me kiss you.”

“‘Kay.”

Yana touched her cheek and pulled her in. Bell responded in kind, pressing Yana’s face between her hands and closing her eyes as her body relaxed. Or mostly relaxed. As Yana climbed over Bell and lowered her to the bed, there was an underlying tension in every move. A division. Bell ran her hands down Yana’s back without fear, but still with an unspoken worry; she played bashful and chaste when Yana began to kiss down her jawline, though couldn’t help but hum in pleasure when Yana reached her neck. She even tried to return the favor when Yana lay back against the pillows. Bell curled up on top of her and left shy kisses across her cheeks as Yana pulled her hair down from its ponytail and ran her fingers through Bell’s dark waves. 

But there was no avoiding what preyed on both of their minds — the contact, the closeness. The tangling of their legs and twining of fingers, the adoration in Yana’s embrace. Yana was in love with her. She wanted all that Bell had to give, all that would be so easy to take, all that Yana silently asked for in every touch but for which Bell remained quiet. She didn’t want to dive right in, but she didn’t want to stop.

When Bell rested on her side and let Yana curl up beside her, Yana pressed a single kiss to her nose. “Bell,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Did you decide? What you want to do?”

Bell averted her eyes. “I...I don’t know. I’m still thinking. I’m sorry, I’m making you wait, I must seem so selfish and rude…”

“No, no, you’re not rude.” Yana stroked her cheek tenderly, hoping to comfort her with the touch, though Bell didn’t respond. “Are you nervous?”

“K...kind of.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, a lonely sound. “I’ve never been this close with...with anyone. Is it — is it supposed to go somewhere? Do we just keep, um, making out until we get bored?”

“That’s up to you,” said Yana.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Yana, I don’t know what —  _ this  _ — is supposed to be like. I can’t exactly plan it out on my own. You’ve had boyfriends, tell me what you do with them.”

A grin pecked at Yana’s lips and she reached to hold Bell’s hands. “Essentially the same thing,” she replied. “Kissing for a while, being all close and nice like this.”

“But you never... _ do _ anything else?”

“Sometimes it ends in sex. Sometimes I just suck their dicks or we grind for a while. And then sometimes we just keep being all close and nice and it doesn’t go anywhere. But whatever it is, we never plan ahead for it. Our bodies tell us what to do next.”

“Oh,” said Bell, looking away. Yana could tell that she wasn’t satisfied with this response, so she kissed her gently and moved her hands to wrap around Bell’s waist.

“You’re overthinking it,” said Yana. “Like I said. Your body will tell you.”

Bell shifted in Yana’s embrace, sighing again.

“Okay,” she said at last. “But...I...I want to talk first.”

“About what?”

“I need to know that this isn’t where it ends. I’ve said it a lot, but I don’t think you understand — this is the closest I’ve ever been with…with anyone. I want to pretend that this — us, and being together like this — isn’t such a big deal, it’s just something fun and impulsive we’re doing at a party, but I feel like that’s easier for _ you _ to do because you’ve done it so many times before. Whereas for me, it feels like a really big step.”

Yana nodded. She remembered her first kiss, with her first boyfriend, as if it was just yesterday. There was a small bit of her heart that would always remain with him.

“So…I don’t want to look back on my first kiss and wonder if it ruined me,” said Bell. “I need something between us to change.”

“Such as?”

“God, Yana, I don’t know.” Bell sighed. “That’s what I’m so confused about. I guess...I don’t want to hate you anymore. We’re so alike, I always think that we could be friends if you’d just stop being such a pretentious ass all the time, and I dearly would like to be friends.”

“Well, I can’t change the pretentious ass part, but sure.”

“You might have to. I do like our rivalry, we work well together when it comes to a debate, but I don’t want to leave a class hating you. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Yana stroked her hair before kissing her forehead. “I have to keep up part of the act, so I might still make fun of you, but...you have B lunch, right?” 

As if she didn’t already know that Bell sat at the table by the trash cans, with only three antisocial math nerds to keep her company. How many times had Yana daydreamed about walking over and pulling her into the bathroom where they’d make out until lunch ended? Jeez.

“Maybe we could sit together sometime,” Yana added. 

“Okay,” said Bell, nodding slowly. “That works. But...we’re, uh, not dating. I’m, I’m still not gay, we’re just friends.”

Yana giggled. “I think you’re far past that point, Bell.”

“I’m...really not. Unless there’s a specific term for ‘not gay, but is doing gay things because she’s kinda drunk.’” She laughed nervously and turned to kiss Yana back, going for the lips this time. Yana couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes, actually…we’d call you bi-curious.”

She leaned over Bell to kiss her deeply, her hands cupping her precious face. Bell gave a small squeak of surprise as Yana nestled snugly on top of her and between her legs. Her skin was hot with a blush. Their lips met again and as Yana pressed into her, Bell’s hips began to stir again. They both felt it — they both knew what this was. Yana didn’t say anything about it, afraid that Bell would stop, but minutes passed and nothing changed.

So she tried something. As she kissed Bell, Yana pushed herself up onto one elbow and cupped Bell’s soft brown cheek with her hand, sliding it softly down her jaw and towards her neck. Then her hand came to rest on Bell’s shirt collar. Yana parted from the kiss.

“May I?” she whispered.

At first, Bell’s response was not surprising — she hesitated. But then it became a little more interesting. She sat up and said, “I’ll...I’ll do it.”

Then she did. But was one thing to see Bell in a swimsuit. It was a whole different thing to watch her undo those buttons. Bit by bit, she tugged her denim shirt down to reveal precious inches of beautiful brown skin, skin that Yana just wanted to kiss and caress and claim as her own. Under her shirt, Bell was wearing a pendant that Yana hadn’t seen before, a delicate blue stone on a gold chain. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the necklace, before Yana reached behind her to undo the clasp. 

Bell’s shirt came off, and then Yana’s silken robe, then after minutes that barely felt like seconds, Bell’s bra and Yana’s bikini top. Piece by piece by piece. They really didn’t meant for it to go this far, but Bell just kept whispering “yes, yes” softly, every time Yana did something that she liked. Yana’s lips seldom left Bell, kissing down her neck and sucking clumsy love-bites into her shoulder. Finally she let herself indulge in Bell’s breasts, palming and kissing and sucking to her heart’s content as she drank in Bell’s whimpers and moans. 

This was all she had envisioned and more; Bell was in her arms and she was truly, truly hers. Forget that Yana was inexperienced and Bell was a blubbering mess and they were both new drinkers who didn’t know their own limits and would have headaches in the morning, this was more than good. It was, in fact, almost too good to be true. 

They couldn’t stop. They didn’t want to. Impulsively, Bell tried to kick her jeans off from around her ankles before she winced at her sprain, so Yana moved down to help her. Then she got distracted, kissing Bell’s ankle better before playfully kissing all the way up her leg and making her laugh. Hearing her laugh, even just hearing her voice was a kind of beauty that Yana couldn’t describe. She wanted to hear so much more and she could barely wait to take it, grabbing Bell’s hips and dipping her hand between her thighs. 

It took a little trial and error. Since boyfriends were useless, she knew little about pleasing a girl other than what she did for herself — so after a clumsy few minutes that went nowhere, she gave up and just asked. And so, bashfully, Bell showed her, apologizing the whole time that she hadn’t shaved and that she was nervous so she would probably take a long time and that she wasn’t even sure if she’d taste good, but Yana shushed her with a kiss. She pulled Bell’s hand up, tentatively licked her fingers, and rather liked the taste.

Then she lay on her stomach between Bell’s legs and licked and sucked and worshiped Bell until she was crying out in pleasure, her back arching and her hand knotting through Yana’s hair, and Yana’s free hand was between her own legs and rubbing furiously as Bell came. Part of Yana wished that she was creative enough to figure out a position where they could pleasure each other at the same time, but just seeing Bell naked and hearing her moan and caressing her body was more than enough for Yana to be content. She had climaxed so many times to the fantasy of Bell in bed with her that it was easy now; it felt right, and it was better than she could have imagined it to be. 

It was clumsy and messy and gross and over almost before they could both register that it was happening. Bell lay next to Yana, her dark hair spilling over the white pillow. Their hands were locked and the bedsheets tangled between their legs. Both of them stared into the pale glow of the room, breathing hard, suddenly too awkward to speak.

“So,” Yana was the first to say. “That was something.”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Bell whispered.

Yana looked over at her. “How...do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” said Bell. “Tired.” She closed her eyes and knit her brow, and her hand in Yana’s tightened almost imperceptibly. “Confused.”

“That’s okay.” Yana gave a big yawn. “Figure it out later.”

“I...I should go.”

“Stay.” She leaned over and kissed Bell’s forehead. “Just for a moment.”

She nestled closer to Bell, her head falling in the gap between two pillows. But Yana was too tired to care. In the rosy light and afterglow, it was so easy to pretend now. They had gold bands on their fingers. They were naked, but their clothes hung together in a closet they shared. The morning would come and they would shower together before helping each other dress for work. It was really such a nice fantasy — one where Bell didn’t need to leave, since she was already home.

Before Yana knew it, she was drifting off to sleep. She felt Bell move and almost jolted awake again, afraid that she would leave, but Bell only leaned across her to turn off the bedside light. Then she hesitated, sighed, and finally curled up in Yana’s arms, where she stayed, and where her breathing evened and slowed in the warm embrace of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will do a bigger and cumulative thank you to all of my betas at the end notes of the next (and last) chapter, but quick thank you to Fangirl_on_a_Bicycle for betaing this chapter!!! honestly hun i don't know how you handle me


	7. Epilogue

In her dream, Bell was a grown-up. She wasn’t sure how she knew that; she just did, like one knows things in a dream. She was standing in a bathroom. But not any random girls’ bathroom, it was a specific bathroom on the sixth floor of the Los Angeles courthouse. On one of her courthouse shadowings, she had used this bathroom as a guest to the building, but somehow in the dream she knew that she wasn’t a guest. This was work. 

The bathroom door swung open and Bell turned. At first, she didn’t know who she saw, like in so many dreams where you know there’s a person, but the dream-view camera is angled just too far down to see their face. A nondescript voice said, “Hey.”

“Yana,” Bell said. 

The view cleared and it was Yana here with her. The bathroom was gone. They stood on a courthouse floor, facing opposite each other, and their government class was sitting in the gallery. Yana wore a crisp, cream-colored suit with a yellow brooch at her collar, an oddly specific detail that Bell only noticed when Yana fidgeted with it.

“Are you nervous too?” asked Bell. 

Yana smirked wryly. “Leading question.”

Bell chuckled. Then Yana crossed the courtroom and took her hand, rubbing the back of it gently, before pulling her close and kissing her —

Suddenly the courthouse disappeared and it became dark and cold, and they were lying naked in bed together and Bell had a headache so bad that it made her head buzz. Her arms were wrapped around Yana, curled up like a cat in Bell’s embrace. The intimacy was sudden in the moment, but Yana was still asleep, and they had clearly been in this position for a very long time. Slowly, the memory reeled through itself in her head. The kissing. The contact. The rush. The afterglow.

“What have I done?” Bell whispered to herself. She could barely hear it over the faint buzzing in her head. 

Then she frowned. The buzzing wasn’t just in her head — that was an intercom. Careful not to wake Yana, she sat up, wrapped herself in a blanket, and fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table, then got up to find the intercom. It was located by the door and was so modern that it took Bell a bit of fiddling to figure out how to turn it on, and once it did, it let out a loud beep that made Bell jump. Back in the bed, Yana stirred. 

“Um...hello?” Bell whispered into the intercom. 

_ “Hi...this is Esme Zarcero. I’m looking for my daughter, Bell.” _

Bell’s eyes widened. “Mom?”

There was a stunned silence. Then Mama’s voice came back in twice the volume, full storm. 

“ _ ISABEL IZARRA! I cannot FUCKING believe you! Puta idiota, you — you had me so worried, I fell asleep by the phone and when I wake up it’s SIX IN THE FUCKING MORNING! And you’re still there! I’m so sorry, mija, are you inside, come out please. Are you okay? Are you safe? God. What is wrong with me, what a terrible mother I am, you probably called but I couldn’t hear because I’m deaf as balls. Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry.” _

Bell had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing aloud, though by that point, Yana was definitely awake. “No, Mom, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

_ “Damn it, you had better or you will get it! I love you. I’m so sorry. Please hurry.”  _

“Okay, okay. I love you too.” Bell smiled as she hung up the intercom. Yana’s eyes were the size of saucers. 

“That’s your mom?”

Bell nodded as she picked up her clothes from the floor. “She was a punk rocker back in the seventies. Never really got rid of her potty mouth, heh.” 

“Now I know where you got it from,” said Yana, inclining her chin.

“Oh. Um, thanks, I guess. Can, um, can you turn away? I need to get dressed.”

“Sure?”   


“I mean, I know we just — ” Bell’s voice got really quiet and she wrapped the blanket tighter around her. “I know we were just very, ah, intimate with, with each other. But I don’t want to be watched.” 

Yana averted her eyes. “Yeah...I get it.” 

She lay back down and closed her eyes as Bell searched around for her various items of clothing. Underclothes, shirt, shoes, ripped jeans, necklace. In comparison to her headache, her ankle hadn’t hurt at all when she woke up, but now that she was walking and not as intoxicated, it hurt like a bitch. After she’d tied her shoes and stood, she reached for the crutch leaning against the wall.

When Bell was dressed, Yana sat up and stretched, seemingly unashamed of her nakedness. But even in the dim light, Bell’s blush must have been obvious, because Yana reached for her robe.

“Are you leaving now?” she asked.

“Well, you heard my mother, can’t exactly make her wait,” said Bell at first. Then it got weirdly quiet and Bell rubbed her neck. “Yes. I’m...um…thank you for inviting me. I had fun.”

It was so painfully awkward that she squeezed her eyes shut, turned away, and pretended to be busy as she tied her loose ponytail.

“Do you have your money?” asked Yana suddenly. 

Bell felt her pocket. She’d carefully transferred the wad of bills from Yana’s borrowed shorts to these pants when she dressed last night, and was pleased to find it still there after last night’s second (third?) undressing. She nodded. “I suppose I should return at some point for the rest of my payment.”

“What…? Oh. Oh, for tutoring.” Yana hesitated, then turned to her bedside table. To Bell’s surprise, she opened the drawer and pulled out a small silver safebox with a keypad, where she typed a ridiculously long code to open it. “These are my emergency funds,” Yana explained. “I really try not to touch them, so that’s why I told you I didn’t have money.”

Bell raised an eyebrow. She wondered how much Yana still hadn’t told her. “And you’re saving up for...what?”

“In case my parents ever kick me out. I started sneaking it away when I was twelve and realized I wasn’t straight. And even though it seems kind of silly now, now that I can get a job and everything, it’s kinda nice to have two thousand in hard cash that nobody else knows about.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell me the passcode,” Bell deadpanned. 

Yana laughed. “Don’t be silly.” She fished out three neatly-folded twenty dollar bills and handed them over as if they were nothing. “It’s, what, ninety bucks I owed you? Tutoring plus the kiss? I don’t even know anymore. Let’s just round it up to a hundred. And keep the crutch, too, you need it more than I do.”

She was so businesslike and matter-of-fact about it that Bell couldn’t even think to protest the gift. Mutely, she accepted the cash and almost turned away, but a knot of guilt caught in her gut. She turned. 

“I…um…thank you. For everything,” she stammered. Then she kissed Yana on the cheek and left. 

Her face burning, she hobbled down the stairs, still littered with red Solo cups and in one case, a girl’s pink hair extension. She could see her mother through the frosted glass front door, her arms folded impatiently. When she saw Bell at the top of the stairs, struggling to walk down, she pressed her face up to the glass and yelled something that Bell couldn’t make out. Inadvertently Bell smiled. 

The second that she unlocked the door, her mother burst through and hugged her tight. There was no long lecture or apology, just a hug. Bell was so tall that Mama had to pull her down to embrace her, and the crutch clattered to the floor, but Bell didn’t mind. For as much fun as she’d had, it was only now that she felt like she could truly relax, going limp in her mother’s strong hold and pressing her face into her hair.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Mama replied. “My fault, I fell asleep.”

“I...uh...I fell asleep too. I never called you.”

They pulled apart. Mama’s eyes widened.

“You fell asleep,” she repeated. Then a wicked grin spread slowly across her face. “Why, did you tire yourself out, doing fun things?”

Bell cringed. Oh, she should have expected this. Cackling like a fairytale witch, her mother slapped her shoulder and led her out the door to the waiting car. 

“Bell, you never listen. I say I will be right and I am right. You should remember that.”

“I know, Mama.”

“Good girl.”

They got into the car to shelter themselves from the early morning chill, and Mama started to drive off. Bell inhaled slowly. 

“Mom?”

“Yes,  _ mija _ ?”

“I...um...I slept with someone last night. That’s why I didn’t call.”

Mama raised an eyebrow. “Is that sarcasm?”

“No. I really did.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank God. Out of character for you, but good.”

“I was a little drunk.”

“Falling-down drunk, tipsy, or just a little fuzzy?”

“Between tipsy and fuzzy. We watered everything down with Sprite. But I still have a headache.”

“Good for Sprite, not good for headache, but it will go away. Was the sex how you hurt your legs?”

“No, that was…something else. But I’m okay.”

“We’ll take care of it when we get home. Did you use protection?”

Bell hesitated. “No.”

“ _ Dios mio _ .”

“I didn’t — it wasn’t with — ”

“Did he pull out? That’s not good protection either, it’s why you are here, you know, oh god, I am not ready for another baby...but I told you what would happen, and you decided to do it anyway, so — ”

“It was with a girl. I’m not pregnant.”

The car fell silent for a few seconds. A few seconds where Bell started to worry. Then, impossibly, Mama grinned. 

“And whose father owes me now,” she snickered. “Next time we call him, you be the one to break the news, alright?”

Bell frowned. “What?”

“Your father and I made a bet about two years ago. He asked if you had a boyfriend yet and I said no. He says why not, she is so pretty, she has to have a boyfriend, and I said no, she doesn’t want one. He says give her time and I say I think she is a lesbian. He says no, that doesn’t sound right, she isn’t —  _ comó se dice, es como, como extravagante, flambosa — no —  _ ah, ‘flamboyant’, he says you are not flamboyant, and I say of course not, because your father has never talked to a lesbian in his life, and he only knows flamboyant gay men. I knew lesbians. So I say, let’s bet, and the bet was we find out before you graduate and then the loser has one month of the dishes.”

“I’m not a lesbian,” said Bell, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t surprised that her parents had bet on it, because that’s just how they were. But she was definitely surprised that they had talked about it at all. 

Meanwhile, Mama just tossed her a look. “You had sex with a girl. I’m pretty sure that means lesbian.”

“I didn’t exactly — ” Bell hesitated, unsure of what was about to come out of her mouth. Didn’t exactly have sex? Did oral even count? God, why couldn’t she think about these sort of things before she did them? 

“Didn’t exactly have sex with her? Did you take off clothes?”

“Um…yes.”

“Did you have an orgasm?”

Sometimes Bell wished her mother was a little less forward. “Y…yes.”

“Good! Then, sex.” Mama nodded, clearly pleased with her deductive reasoning skills. “What...what is that word, ir, ir...you use it a lot…”

“Ergo.”

“Ergo! You were with a girl, you had an orgasm, ergo it was sex with a girl, ergo you are a homosexual. Congratulations.”

Bell looked down at her lap. It definitely sounded weird to hear in her head.  _ I’m a homosexual.  _ At least, she might be. “Well...she said I could be bi-curious,” said Bell. “What happens to the bet if I turn out to be bisexual?”

She took a second to think. “I think we decided that the bet would be off then,” she replied. “I’m not sure. But if you don’t get a boyfriend before he comes home, we can just say you are a lesbian and I win.”

That sounded fair enough. Bell nodded. She wasn’t really one for labels, but she supposed it didn’t matter if it was staying inside the family. 

“So?” Mama prompted. “Who is she? Do I know her?”

Bell pressed her lips together. Yes, Mama knew her, but not in a good way. “Um...so you remember Yana Zaranti? The rude white girl. She invited me to the party.”

“ _ Her?! _ ”

Mama nearly roared through a red light and slammed on the brakes. Bell winced.

“Oh, come on, Isabel. You can do better than that. Isn’t she the one who taunts you in mock trial?”

“The very same.” Bell sighed. “But we had a long talk. She’s still got a lot of work. She’s got a lot of home issues too, and she deals with them in unhealthy ways.”

Mama’s face turned doubtful. “Like bullying you?”

“She pretended to hate me for four years to get my attention, because she was scared of someone finding out that she likes girls.”

“Right.”

“You don’t get it, Mom. She and I — we’re completely different rungs of the social ladder; if she tried to make friends with me normally, it’d be crossing cliques, which is suspicious enough. If her parents found out about anything between us, they would — I don’t know. They’re both actively working to keep gay marriage illegal, so Yana doesn’t think they’ll be very supportive.”

Bell had chosen her words carefully. She didn’t want to infringe on Yana’s privacy or make Mama worry by saying too much, so she made it sound less bad than Yana had made it out to be. But of course, all mothers have a sense for lies by omission. 

“Does she feel unsafe?” asked Mama suddenly. “Do they hurt her?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean...maybe. Mr. Zaranti endorses gay conversion therapy, but Yana’s eighteen now; they can’t make her go to it unless she wants to.” 

Except that Yana had still seemed very scared of being sent there. Maybe her parents had a stronger hold on her than it seemed. 

“And — they’re barely home anyway, they’re working with the United Nations right now. Yana lives alone most of the time, whole house to herself.”

_ “Alone?” _

There was a note of panic in Mama’s tone and Bell looked at her. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she tried to say, knowing it wasn’t true. 

“What do you mean, ‘not as bad as it sounds’?! She’s alone, Bell, she’s so young, that’s terrible!”

“Mom, seriously, she’s eighteen.”

“That is a baby.”

“Yana avoids her parents even when they are home, and she has plenty of friends to keep her company. And she has money to buy whatever she needs, so she’s not going hungry.”

Mama just drove for a few moments, staring straight ahead at the early morning lights. Then she braked and pulled over, parking the car by the curb. Mother turned to face daughter and, from her back pocket, pulled a plastic library card.

“Isabel,” she said, “this is yours again. You’ve more than earned it. You left your comfort zone. You tried new things. You began to heal a relationship with someone that you have hated ever since you met her. And most of it, I think, you did without being motivated by this little card.”

She placed it in Bell’s palm and closed her hand around it. Then she sat back, every trace of a smile gone from her face.

“But I’m going to ask you to do something that isn’t motivated at all by that thing,” said Mama. “I want you to make a decision.”   
  
“Mom, what are you talking about — ”

“The whole party’s over? Were you the last one there? Yes or no, Bell.”

“Yes. I was the last guest to leave.”

“And this Yana is now home all alone?”

Oh. Bell started to understand what her mom was getting at, but she didn’t say it. “Well… yes.”

“Okay. I will tell you that I wanted to take you to breakfast, just to celebrate, and get stuff in your belly that isn’t alcohol or chips. While it would be good family bonding time, we’re alone together so often we’re both sick of each other. So I think…”

“Mom, no.”

“It’s just what I think.” 

“Mom.”

“It’s your decision,” Mama shrugged. “I don’t mind if you just want to be with me, just the two of us. But I don’t like the thought of just leaving this girl at home all alone, and if you have faith in her, I would very much like to meet her.”

“I know you would,” Bell replied stiffly. She bit her lip and turned down to stare at her hands, at the little plastic card resting in them. Sighing, she slipped it into her pocket, along with the wad of one hundred dollars.

“She’s...interesting,” was all Bell could say after a while. Then she sighed. She could think a lot about Yana Zaranti, a lot more than she could before. “She’s in love with me,” she continued hesitantly. “But I don’t know if I understand her enough to love her back. I…I don’t think I understand  _ myself  _ enough to love her back. She sees so much in me that I can’t even fathom of myself, I can’t understand it. And — well, I just left so suddenly, and now it’s awkward, we’re probably going to never end up talking again, oh, I was so stupid, wasting my first kiss and my first time on a girl I barely know — ”

“Isabel,” said Mama. 

“What?”

“I happen to have a very special technique that will solve all of those problems at once. It’s very secret, so obviously you don’t know it, but if you’re willing to listen, I can explain how to solve everything you don’t know about this girl.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Mama turned back to the road and started up the car again. “It’s called ‘talking to her’, an ancient and secret art lost to people like you. If you do it nicely, your success rate increases.”

Bell’s cheeks warmed and she looked down at her lap. Her mother was right. Unfortunately. Now Bell had to ask herself harder questions — was she willing to listen? To get close to Yana? She didn’t know the first thing about relationships. And she didn’t know the first thing about being gay. Not knowing these things was frightening and that was why Bell just didn’t want to try. She didn’t exactly regret spending her first kiss and first time on Yana, but if she kept going back for more, the risk of future regret was just too...unknown. It was better to be safe than sorry.

But then she thought again. About Yana’s mournful green eyes. Her broken lips and careful kiss. Her nervous hands, her nails filed down but her skin smooth as silk. The closest thing to an angel that Bell had ever seen. She was irresistible, and it wasn’t just how she could draw the sweetest of moans from Bell’s lips with little more than a touch, it was because that touch was so soft that even the skeptic had to admit that this girl loved Bell more than anything in the world. 

Bell looked up. Mama kept driving into the cool of the morning, never once turning to look back at her daughter.

Bell closed her eyes and sighed.

“Mom?”

* * *

The morning after a party always moved in slow motion.

It didn’t matter how loud the music was, how good the drinks were, or how hot the sex was, Yana could never wake up and pretend it was a normal morning. The house was quiet. Her head hurt. Her bed was empty. Slowly, ever slowly, Yana would drag herself from her bed, dress, trudge down the stairs, have some low-energy breakfast, and resign herself to a Saturday of cleaning the house. 

This time she stopped between the bed and the closet to look in the mirror.

She had sex hair and faint marks on her neck, where she’d taught her beloved how to give a hickey. Her beloved. A girl. Not just a girl.  _ Bell.  _ Bell, who had left just a few minutes ago, and who (if Yana rushed to the window) could probably be seen getting in her mother’s car and driving away. But Yana didn’t run. She reached up to pull her robe down one shoulder, baring the full expanse of kiss-dotted skin. She ran her fingers over them, pressing in, happy that they hurt.

She got dressed, a sluggish process that involved leaning against the wall with her eyes closed for ten minutes. Then she dragged herself down the stairs and to the kitchen, ankle-deep in party trash that she’d been too tipsy to notice last night. Crumpled napkins, spilt beer, red cups as far as the eye could see. Yana ignored all of it. She was too weary to cook, so she reached for the cereal cabinet instead. On the way, her eyes caught on the knives. 

The house was so quiet.

She shook her head and sat down with her bowl of cereal. Not a good time to be suicidal. “Look on the bright side,” she whispered to herself. “She gave you a kiss goodbye.” But it was nothing like the first kiss goodbye, the one that had dissolved into passionate making out and then vigorous sex — now  _ that  _ was a goodbye. But it was a goodbye on impulse. Only done because Bell’s and Yana’s logic had something to be desired. This morning, Bell had left like she didn’t want to see Yana ever again. Not that Yana could blame her, though; she would probably never come back…

“Um…Yana?”

Yana spun around, dropping her spoon. Bell stood in the doorway, her gaze on her shoes.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer,” she mumbled. “And the door was unlocked, I hope it’s okay that I just came back in — ”

Yana tumbled out of her chair and threw herself at Bell in a hug. It probably wasn’t the best idea, considering that Bell was still on crutches, but fortunately Yana held her tight enough that she didn’t fall over. 

“I’m sorry,” Yana blurted.

“What are you apologizing for?” asked Bell, sounding on the brink of suspicious. Now confused, Yana pulled back.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Why did you come back?”

She realized that her hands were resting in Bell’s, but Bell wasn’t letting go. “I...well,” Bell said, “I wanted to ask if you would like to come to breakfast with us. I mean, me. Me and my mom.”

At first, Yana wasn’t sure she had heard Bell right. She stared, open-mouthed, at Bell to the point that it got awkward and Bell averted her gaze. 

“Or I could, um, just go — ”

“No, I want to!” Yana said. “Just — does your mom — does she — ”

“She knows  _ everything _ ,” said Bell.

“Oh.” Yana wasn’t sure how to feel about that. At least the probability of Mrs. Zarcero ever meeting Mom was pretty low. And judging by Mom’s opinions on immigration policy, Mrs. Zarcero wasn’t likely to want to talk to her anyway. Still, Yana couldn’t help but worry — the secret was out to a parent now, anything could happen —

“But she’s not like your mom,” Bell added hastily. “She’s okay with it. She’s actually really proud of me. And...I think she’d be proud of you too.”

Now Yana  _ really  _ wasn’t sure how to feel about this. “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t exactly done things to be proud of.”

“No, not really,” Bell agreed.

“Thanks for the honesty.”

“You’re welcome.” 

After a short silence, Bell reached up to touch Yana’s cheek.

“But that doesn’t mean she’ll hate you,” she said. “I think you’re okay.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in Yana’s chest. Slowly, as it registered in her brain, her eyes lit up. “You think I’m okay?!” she repeated, incredulous. “You don’t hate me?”

“Don’t test it,” said Bell. Despite it, Yana squealed and crushed Bell in another hug, landing a clumsy kiss on her cheek. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I love you, Bell, thank you!”

“Like I said,” Bell told her, “don’t test it.” But she was smiling, and her hand slid very carefully into the small of Yana’s back. 

For the first time, things were alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your patience in this short little fic! i haven't legitimately ended a fic in a while so i don't really know what to say. 
> 
> HUGE HUGE HUGE THANKS TO MY BETAS: TuskedLioness for beta-ing Bell's half, Fangirl_on_a_Bicycle for beta-ing Yana's half (and also for being the authentic 90's kid who gently nudged this Gen Z-er about historical inaccuracies), and Dr_Psyche for skimming the whole thing! honestly you guys are all lifesavers and this fic would've looked a lot different without y'all. i love youuuuuu
> 
> and thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! please subscribe or continue to check up on my tumblr @fortissimohno for more updates (and also alerts when i get back on that de facto business)
> 
> i love you all!!!!!!!!


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